Courage and Cowardice
by Moiraine Lendreth
Summary: COMPLETE. As a sequel to “Out for Ice Cream”, this story continues to narrate Draco’s doomed battle against his growing desire for the BoyWhoLived, with a few unexpected twists. Warning: HPDM slash. All HP names, places and related indicia are © JK Rowlin
1. Denial

Courage and Cowardice

-sequel to "Out for Ice Cream-

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Author's notes: Although not my first HP fanfiction piece, "Out for Ice Cream" was the first I posted here at fanfiction[dotnet, and I must say the positive response was overwhelming and heart-warming. Writing slash is not really my forte, although I take pride on my versatility as a writer (I can write decent stories, and I can write crappy ones too; my definition of 'versatility', ha ha). This story is dedicated to all those who reviewed the prequel and loved it, as well as to every HPDM supporter. May the pens of all slash writers stay sharp.

Chapter 1 [**Denial**, in which Draco flat-out refuses to acknowledge his attraction to Harry is more than just hormone-induced lust.

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Draco Malfoy drew out a long sigh. He was looking out the tall dark-paned window of his room in Malfoy Manor, but he was not really seeing the dimming late-afternoon sky, the manicured lawns, or the perfectly-trimmed hedges in the garden below. As he was wont to do of late, whenever he had nothing to do, his thoughts strayed invariably to the mental territory dominated by thoughts and images of Harry Potter.

More specifically, he was remembering the events earlier that day at Diagon Alley.

He had been surprised by the reaction Harry—yes, in Draco's mind he was 'Harry', not 'Potter'—had given him when he was caught staring. Draco had half-expected him to throw a death glare, take out his wand, and curse Draco to within an inch of his life. He had _not _expected Harry to give Draco a sinfully erotic display of how to eat ice cream that sent vivid images and curious sensations to drown Draco in unfulfilled want.

The very thought of Harry sent a delicious shiver down Draco's spine. The room was suddenly very warm now, and his breath was coming in shallow gasps. _This is not good. I'm getting turned on by the mere memory of Harry._

Attraction was not new to Draco; he was not ignorant of his effect on people, girls as well as a few boys. He knew he had been generously endowed by the Malfoy traits: silver-blonde hair, pale skin, steel gray eyes, and a grace of movement that did not go away even when he was under pressure. He was also quite slender and firm of muscle, which made him a good Seeker, although not as exceptional as Harry Potter.

Draco frowned. There he goes again, thinking about the Gryffindor Seeker. Anger flushed his cheeks pink, and he bit his lower lip, frowning at the window. _This is all Harry's fault, damn it! If he hadn't kissed me—if he hadn't LOOKED at me, I wouldn't be sulking like a lovelorn idiot!_

Ever since Draco had acknowledged the fact that he felt drawn towards Harry, he had gone to great lengths to change his feelings. And when that did not work, he had done everything he possibly could to control this emotion and keep it locked safely away. He picked fights with Harry and his friends; he bullied him, annoyed him, made his life miserable, just so he could prove that he can win over whatever that had possessed him to _want_ Harry Potter.

Everything was going perfectly, until Harry kissed Draco senseless. That one kiss broke Draco's meticulously built mental wall of denial, and his emotions had flooded him so much that he was rendered motionless for a full minute after Harry had left him inside Madam Malkin's shop.

Everything slid out of focus for Draco as he remembered the kiss. It had been passionate and lustful and everything in between, Harry's lips pressed insistently against his, their breaths mingling and their tongues melting together like the sweetest wine. And Draco wanted more of it. He wanted more out of Harry than a kiss.

A knock on his bedroom door startled Draco out of his heated thoughts. He quickly walked away from the window seat and opened the door. Narcissa Malfoy was standing in the doorway, holding what appeared to be a silver tray of tea and small cakes.

"Mother! Is there something wrong?" Draco asked, wondering why his mother was carrying a tray of late afternoon tea when there were several house elves capable of doing this task for her.

Narcissa smiled warmly and held up the tray in a kind of gesture. "I was hoping to have tea with you, Draco, May I come in?"

"Of course." Draco opened the door wider to let her inside. "Let me help you with that, Mother." He took the tray into his own hands and led her to the sofa near the fireplace, which was directly across the bed. Narcissa took a seat and patted the space next to her.

"Here, Draco," she offered, and Draco sat down dutifully beside her, wondering what this was all about. He watched his mother pour tea for the both of them and serve the cakes. "Mother, you could have just ordered the house elves to do this."

"I could," Narcissa agreed, "but I wanted to do this myself, and I know you don't like seeing house elves inside your room."

The comment made Draco's eyebrow twitch. "I don't much like the thought of having someone else touch my things."

Narcissa gave a light chuckle, giving warmth to her otherwise haughty beauty. "Yes, you are a bit possessive, aren't you? Just like your father."

A streak of irritation made Draco's face tight, but Narcissa did not notice. He _hated_ being compared to his father. With surprising effort Draco made his face as calm as possible. "I see."

Narcissa looked up, her dark eyes softening at Draco. "Draco…" In uttering his name she had asked a silent question, one that Draco had no trouble deciphering. Do you hate your father so?

Draco turned his eyes away and stared into the fireplace, his face unchanging, but that was enough. Narcissa sighed, her eyes lowering, and she sat back with the cup of tea in her hands.

"Is this why you came here, Mother?"

Narcissa sadly shook her head. "No." She placed the cup back on the table after taking a sip and placed her hands in her lap. She looked up at Draco. "I came to ask what has been bothering you for the past few days."

For a moment Draco was confused. "Bothering me? But I feel perfectly fine, Mother."

Narcissa seemed thoughtful, studying Draco's face. After a moment, she said, "I have noticed something different about you, Draco. You always seem so pensive these days, and so…quiet. I thought our small trip to Diagon Alley would cheer you up, but you have been silent ever since we went back." She frowned slightly. "Did something happen while we were there?"

Draco could feel his face go warm. He had forgotten that, although his father was quite cunning and manipulative, his mother was a very intelligent, perceptive individual. He had to be careful; one small slip and it would not take long for Narcissa to realize that her only son was attracted to the Dark Lord's greatest enemy, not withstanding the Hogwarts Headmaster. Draco did not think his mother would take too kindly to this news.

"Nothing happened," Draco lied smoothly in a careless drawl. "Honestly Mother, you're worrying too much."

Narcissa did not answer, merely watched her son. It took all of Draco's self-control to refrain from squirming under her steady gaze, and instead concentrate on his cup of tea.

Finally, "Yes, maybe I am thinking a bit too much," Narcissa mused almost to herself. Draco heaved a mental sigh of relief. "Is it a girl?"

"No, I—what?" Draco almost choked on a piece of cake. He whirred around to face his mother. "What makes you think I'm worried about a girl, Mother?" He gave a forced laugh. "That's ridiculous." _Damn it! Damn bloody Potter! He'll pay for this I swear._

Narcissa laughed. It was like the sound of crystal bells tinkling. For a fleeting moment Draco was amazed at how easy it was for his mother to completely hide this side of her when they were in the company of other people; but the realization that he had not fooled his mother won over, and his expression changed to one of horrified trepidation. He gulped.

"Draco, you have always been too transparent—at least, you are to me." Her smile was very warm. "So…when are you going to tell me about her?"

For a moment Draco could not think. She did not really mean that he would…to his family? "That's impossible," he blurted without thinking. Too late he realized he had said this out loud; the mistake was made even more stupid by the fact that he had been taught—since he learned how to talk—to _always think before anything_.

Draco could feel his cheeks go warm with anger and humiliation. They were only _brushing_ on the topic that involved Potter, and he was reduced to a stuttering, blabbering idiot! _How_ Potter could do this to him was a mystery to Draco, but he knew that if he did not do something about it, he might end up a pathetic looser with the intelligence of a flobberworm.

And the thought of introducing Harry to his family was beyond the reaches of his imagination; he might as well go up to the Dark Lord right now and ask him for a dance. Both instances would end up with the same result: his lifeless corpse on the floor before he could blink.

_Besides, I don't like Potter in the least…I'm just physically attracted to him that's all, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't even want to _talk _to me,_ he thought bitterly, knowing that Harry's teasing inside Madame Malkins's shop was just that—a taunt to make him uncomfortable and humiliated for Harry's entertainment. He didn't even have a snowball's chance of getting Harry to think he was not an enemy.

Narcissa watched the emotions play across her son's face. She hid a knowing smile behind her cup as she drank the slowly-cooling tea. As she set it down, Narcissa decided to leave things as they were—for now. She was a very patient person after all; if she was not, she would not have been able to make Lucius Malfoy her husband.

"Well," she said softly, and Draco almost jumped. "Since it doesn't seem to be anything you cannot handle on your own, perhaps I should leave you alone to…think things over," she ended with a mysterious smile. "After all, this is what you've been doing all along, isn't it?" She stood up, and Draco stood up with her, escorting her to the door.

"Oh, and Draco…" she turned around to her son, "remember that, whoever it maybe you are worried over, I am sure she is someone I would like very much. Leave your father to me," she added with a glint in her eyes as she smiled, leaving Draco alone to ponder on her words.#

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Please read and review. 


	2. Denial to Disbelief

Chapter 2 **Denial to Disbelief**, in which Harry helps things along by showing Malfoy that his want for Harry cannot be denied

_Author's Notes: This story contains SLASH; if you are not comfortable with reading fanfiction of this element, please hit the back button. Otherwise, you may proceed. Lemon scenes ahead; you have been forewarned._

Harry wended his way through the crowd, minding where he pushed his trolley. He made an impatient noise against his throat as a gaggle of girls blocked his way; many of them had seen him, and they were trying their best to seem inconspicuous as they took second long looks at him. Harry sighed. He didn't want this sort of attention. From _them_, at least.

"Harry!" Ron's voice made Harry look up. Ronald Weasley was already standing by the barrier that divided platforms nine and ten here at King's Cross Station, and Ginny Weasley was beside him. Both of them had their trolleys parked side by side nearby, with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley standing not too far off. Hermione Granger and the twins Fred and George were there, too. He had also caught sight of Kingsley Shacklebolt in the crowd somewhere.

The only thing that divided Harry from the Weasleys was these infernal girls taking too long to pass through. One of them had dropped her bag, the contents spilling on the floor. The others immediately went to help her; Harry noticed they were picking things up very slowly; most were shooting glances in his direction. He rolled his eyes, and resigned himself to the inevitable.

"Need a hand?" he asked politely, leaving his trolley to one side to help them. The other girls immediately stood up and stepped back, leaving the girl who had dropped her bag alone with Harry.

Harry saw a blush bloom across her cheeks, but her eyes were filled with undisguised triumph. He could almost see the gloating expression in them. _Why me?_

The girl had blond hair and clear blue eyes. Harry noticed her nails were colored a bright shade of pink; so were her lips. Harry picked up a pen on the floor. It was also quite pink, with a fluffy pink…thing…at the end of it. He shuddered inwardly as he handed her the pen, along with some pages of paper, a notebook, and a compact mirror—all of them pink.

_The Pink Lady_, Harry thought inwardly. It made him want to laugh aloud, but he managed to settle with a smile. He did not realize the girl had gasped, and her blush went even redder.

"Th-thanks," she said, not quite looking Harry in the eye. 'I'm Tracey Stockton, by the way."

"Harry Potter," Harry replied automatically, and offered a hand. Tracey took it without any real hesitation, and Harry pulled her up with him. "It was nice knowing you." Harry turned to get his trolley.

"Wait!"

Harry turned around. Tracey Stockton walked up to him and flashed him a pink-lipped smile. "Can I have your number?"

Harry blinked for a moment before the question sank in. "Oh. Er, sorry, but I don't have one."

The girl looked disappointed for a moment before she looked up again. "How about your mobile? Or e-mail address?" she tucked in a lock of hair behind her ear and gave him a coy look. "I really want to get to know you better."

Harry gave her a small smile. "I'm sorry, but I have to go now." He turned away before she could answer, pushing his trolley past her and towards the Weasleys, who had—in his horror—watched the scene from their vantage point. Ron's eyebrows were as far up as they would go; Fred and George were sniggering, and Ginny had one eyebrow quirked up while her lips curled into a knowing smile. Even Hermione was there, and she was grinning, too.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't even breathe a word of it," he said in a low tone.

"Aw, come one, Harry, it's not everyday we get to see you attacked by a viciously pink and preppy girl," George chided. Ron snorted.

"Stuff it," Harry sighed. He wasn't in the mood to argue right now. Since he turned sixteen Harry had been getting a fair amount of attention from girls, but he still wasn't used to it. He remembered when girls from Hogwarts started accosting him whenever he was alone: it was enough to give him a heart attack. But now, at least, he was able to show a more-controlled demeanor, albeit one without the slightest interest in them.

They passed through the barrier and boarded the train with very little difficulty. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Tonks made an appearance just before the Hogwarts Express departed from the station, confirming Harry's suspicion that they were being followed. Or, to be more precise, that _he _was being followed. Irritation flared inside of him; he wasn't a little kid anymore, for Merlin's sake…

The thought that they were still treating him like a child dampened Harry's mood as he peered through compartment doors looking for a place where he could wait for Ron and Hermione, who had gone to the Prefects' compartment for their meeting. At one door he saw Neville and Ginny seated with Luna Lovegood and three other Ravenclaw girls.

"Oh, hi Harry," Ginny grinned. "Sorry, but this place's full."

"That's alright," Harry shrugged. "Hey, Neville. I heard your grandmother was sent to St. Mungo's. Is she alright?"

"Ah, she's fine," Neville answered. "She just twisted an ankle and spilled a bottle of Engorging Potion on her leg. She's at home right now."

"That's good to hear." Harry noticed that Luna's friends were shyly turning their eyes away from him, their cheeks quite pink. He resisted the urge to sigh. "Hey, Luna. How was your summer?"

Luna took her eyes of the latest edition of _The Quibbler _and looked up at Harry with a mysterious smile on her face. "Oh, it was fine, thanks." She put down the magazine and gestured to her companions. "By the way, Harry, these are my classmates from Ravenclaw. They really wanted to meet you in person." Harry saw Ginny roll her eyes behind them and snort. The blushing girls did not notice her.

Harry tried his best to be friendly. "Hi. My name's—"

"Harry Potter, yes, we know," cut in the shortest girl with her brown hair in pigtails and freckles across her nose. She turned beet red when Harry looked at her. "You're all over the _Daily Prophet_ these days."

"Er…is that so?" Harry asked, knowing only too well that the _Prophet_ was making him headline news, along with the appointment of Rufus Scrimgeour as the new Minister for Magic. "I hope they're not writing anything bad about me again like last time."

"Oh no, not at all," came the quick reply from another one of the girls, this one dark-eyes and short haired. "You look pretty good in the pictures, actually—I mean, you look nice." Her friends giggled, and she blushed, but she resolutely looked up at Harry. "Can I—I mean, can we get your autograph?"

This time Ginny laughed aloud; even Neville was trying vainly to hide a smile. Luna only shrugged and smiled, returning her attention to the _Quibbler_. The girls shot a nasty glare at Ginny, but Ginny didn't seem to notice.

Harry felt kind of embarrassed, and he gave Ginny a look that said so, but she only scoffed at him. "Go on, Harry, give them an autograph." She winked at him and quirked an eyebrow with an expression that looked almost like Fred and George's.

Hating to be rude and look like an arrogant prat, Harry conceded and signed the scraps of parchment the girls gave him. They also told Harry their names, but once he slid the compartment door close he had already forgotten.

He finally found an empty compartment all to himself at the very back of the train, which suited Harry just fine. At least here girls would not have an excuse for "accidentally" getting the wrong compartment and barging in on him without a knock. He remembered the incident last year on their way back to King's Cross station; both Ron and Hermione had left him alone for their Prefect duties, and Harry decided that it was more convenient if he changed clothes inside the compartment. When he had peeled off his robes and was only clad in his pants, his chest bare, a girl had opened the compartment door and stumbled in on a half-naked Harry.

After that, seven more girls accidentally opened his compartment door, thinking it was theirs. Harry did NOT want that to happen again. After putting his luggage under the seat and Hedwig's cage on the seat beside his, Harry took out his wand and put a Locking charm on the door.

_Let's see them try peeking in on me this time,_ Harry thought smugly as he sat down on his seat beside the window, staring at the trees and fields whizzing past. _Now, if it was Draco Malfoy trying to peek, maybe I'll consider…_

Harry smirked as he remembered the events at Diagon Alley. In truth, he had not expected to see Draco Malfoy there. He was quite surprised—though pleasantly so—to catch the Slytherin watching him eat his ice cream.

He was aware that he had a very awkward way of eating the sweet dessert; Hermione had pointed it out to him on more than one occasion when they ate together at Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor during their visits to Diagon Alley during the summer.

"Harry, don't you realize you're making people think of _something else_ when you lick and slurp it like that?" Hermione said in a dry voice, her eyebrow twitching. "Did you see the way that girl _looked_ at you?"

"Why, what's wrong with the way Harry eats?" Ron asked, nonplussed. Hermione only rolled her eyes at him.

Harry had tried to look innocent as he asked, "Yeah, what's wrong with the way I eat ice cream?" He took another long lick up the side of his cone as a young man walked past, who almost crashed into a store sign as he watched Harry. Hermione growled at the back of her throat.

"You are deliberately _teasing_ people!" she hissed.

"What's wrong with that?" Harry shrugged.

Hermione had given up at that point, leaving Harry to do what he wanted, while Ron looked on in confusion. Harry laughed at the memory. The next day, he returned to the ice cream parlor by himself, and by chance he saw Draco Malfoy at the window of Madame Malkin's _Robes for All Occasions._

At first, he really didn't pay much attention to Malfoy. If there was anything he learned from Hogwarts, it was that paying attention to Draco Malfoy quickly put him into a sour mood. The git was arrogant, snobbish, and cynical. It was an understatement to say Harry did not like him at all. He did not like it when Malfoy almost always made him look like an idiot in front of everyone; he did not like it when Malfoy insulted his friends and his family. He did not like it, most of all, when Malfoy always showed that he was better than Harry, a half-blood orphan who always got lucky. Draco Malfoy had the uncanny ability to make Harry feel like a proper fool. Not for the last time he wished that their roles were reversed: _he _would be the one making Malfoy feel like a fool, this time, with the power to at least make him realize that he wasn't a useless idiot. Which was damn near impossible; he had never seen Draco Malfoy bow down to anyone except his own father.

But when Harry saw him stare—he was downright _ogling_ him—as he ate his ice cream, he found out something about the Slytherin that made him realize that maybe…just maybe…he could have his wish granted. The way Malfoy looked at him practically screamed that he was attracted to Harry, and that kind of attraction could always be used to his advantage…

_I guess this was what the Sorting Hat meant when he said I could be great in Slytherin,_ Harry thought wryly. The way he was thinking now, he doubted he was any different from Malfoy or his friends.

But that wasn't the only thing he found out. As he obliged Malfoy by continuing to devour his ice cream in a slower, more sensual manner, Harry realized that teasing Malfoy and watching him get so flustered was so much fun and very…addicting. A smile quirked his lips. _Heck, watching him act so un-Malfoy-ish was a big turn on._

Kissing Malfoy though…now _there_ was something Harry had not expected. He felt his cheeks go warm at the memory. He didn't think he could be so _forward_. He just grabbed him by the shoulders and pressed his lips against his, and before Harry knew it he was already kissing him thoroughly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And for a moment, it _was_ the most natural thing Harry had ever done, like breathing. He did it without conscious thought, his body acting of its own will. Kissing Malfoy felt…it felt…

_Just right._

Harry leaned his forehead against the glass. His skin felt hot against the cool, hard surface. Draco's lips were soft and warm; such a contrast to his hard gaze and cool demeanor, that it made the kiss all the more exquisite. And Harry realized that he wanted this; he wanted Draco Malfoy. Never mind that he was a boy, or that he was in Slytherin, or that his father had tried to kill him more than once.

And anyway, if Draco's reaction to the kiss was anything to go by, he probably wanted Harry just as badly. Harry's smile turned into a full fledged grin. _That's an interesting thought…_

"_Alohomora!"_

There was a soft glow of light, and the compartment door slid open. Harry had no time to grab his wand as a blur of black and silver-blonde brought Draco Malfoy dashing inside the compartment and quickly sliding the door closed with a relieved sigh. Harry recovered quickly, eyes blinking back, thinking that he was imagining things. But the Slytherin took a step back from the door and mumbled a Locking charm before slumping down on the seat opposite Harry with his eyes closed.

"That was too damn close," Draco muttered to himself. "If Pansy saw me I'll have to endure the entire trip with _her _draped all over me." Ah well. Not his imagination, then.

Putting on a smooth, calm expression, Harry cleared his throat. For a few silent moments nobody stirred. And then Draco burst into action.

It was like watching a cat get doused with cold water. Harry bit down on his lower lip to keep from laughing out loud. One moment Draco was slumped into his seat, and the next he was standing up with his wand brandished right in front of Harry, his eyes wild before a look of recognition passed his face, which quickly turned into muted anger. Harry's face eased into a smile; he did not move an inch.

"You!" Draco hissed vehemently. Harry could almost imagine the hair at the back of Draco's neck stand on end, bristling. "What are you doing here?"

"If you haven't noticed yet, Malfoy, this is my compartment," Harry answered smoothly. He tilted his head. "Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" He glanced at the compartment door. "Running away from Pansy Parkinson, are you?"

Draco's cheeks flushed into pale pink, his eyes glaring cold daggers. "Mind your own business, Potter," he snapped "It was just my bad luck I had to get inside a compartment with you."

"I see." Harry shrugged and turned his head sideways to gaze out the window. "Although, we seem to bump into each other more often these days, don't you think?"

Draco's cheeks turned three shades deeper, and he resolutely turned his eyes away from Harry. The Gryffindor Seeker smirked. So he remembers.

_I wonder what else he's thinking about right now?_

Just then a figure appeared against the smoky glass of the compartment door. Somebody knocked. "Draco? Are you in there?" came Pansy Parkinson's muffled voice.

Draco whipped around, his wand now pointed at the door. For a moment there was a flash of panic, and he turned his eyes fleetingly at Harry, who stood up and walked to the door.

Draco's arm shot out and grabbed Harry's sleeve. "Not a word, Potter," he warned in a low voice, gray eyes darkening.

Harry gave him a smirk. "In exchange for what?"

Pansy knocked again. Draco's eyes flitted to the door before glaring back at Harry. "Don't tell her I'm here, Potter, if you want to get to Hogwarts intact." He flashed a triumphant grin, his wand prodding into Harry's back.

Harry flashed a grin. "Do that and you'll end up a ferret again, Malfoy." Draco felt something prod against his stomach and looked down. Harry had his own wand out and pointing at him, his arm twisted back to reach him.

"Draco? It's Pansy!"

Harry turned his head and faced the door. For one dreadful moment Draco thought Harry would tell Pansy he was here, but all he said was, "Go away Parkinson. I'm trying to get some sleep here, do you mind? Find your boyfriend somewhere else."

After leaving a string of curses at Harry, Pansy Parkinson left, her footsteps thudding dully until they could no longer hear her. After a few moments of tense silence Harry lowered his wand and sat down again, raking his hair back with one hand. "She's gone, Malfoy. Might as well sit down."

Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry but did not comment. He sat down, his wand still clutched in one hand. For a long while neither of them spoke.

Harry tore his eyes away from the window and saw Draco narrowing his eyes at him. "What?"

"Why did you help me?"

For a moment Harry looked nonplussed. He shrugged. "Why shouldn't I help you?"

"You hate me," Draco blurted out without thinking, and he bit his lower lip, feeling his cheeks burn.

Harry couldn't help smiling. "Yeah. That's right." Draco tensed when Harry stood up and walked towards him. He looked down on Draco, his eyes smoldering green. "But it seems you don't really hate me…do you, Malfoy?" his voice was low and husky, sending a shiver down Draco's spine.

Draco stubbornly refused to give ground, and he thrust his chin up angrily at Harry. "That's a load of nonsense, Potter. Of course I hate you." He added a smirk. "I hated you since the first day we met."

Harry leaned over until he was almost bent double, his nose inches from Draco's. His emerald eyes looked straight into Draco's own, gray swirling with mixed emotions. "And at Diagon Alley?" Harry asked softly. He leaned closer still, his breath hot against Draco's skin. "Did you hate me _then_?"

Draco fought the throbbing desire to thrust his lips upwards and kiss Harry. This close, he could smell the scent that was uniquely Harry's, one that reminded Draco of vanilla and warm summer days. He swallowed hard. "Get—get away from me, Potter," he hissed, and Draco cursed himself when it came out almost like a soft whisper. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist around his wand, but Harry's hand closed over his, fingers trying to pry the wand loose.

"You won't need this," Harry whispered against his ear, and Draco almost gasped at the intimate contact. Draco felt feverish, almost hot, making it hard to breathe. He could feel his breath coming out in gasps, his eyes not really seeing anything as he reveled in the onslaught of sensations Harry was giving him as his lips ghosted over Draco's neck, up his cheek, and over his lips.

Draco closed his eyes. He should be fighting this, shouldn't he? For Merlin's sake, he was a _Malfoy_! He should be resisting; he should be pushing Harry away, or hexing him, or punching him in the face, anything to make him stop—

As if reading his thoughts, Harry pulled away and studied Draco's face. Draco's eyes flew open as cool air rushed in to fill the space where Harry's lips were moments before. He looked up and saw Harry's face in an unreadable expression. "Should I stop?"

Draco blinked, unsure of what he was hearing, still feeling slightly dazed. When the words finally sank in, Draco could not—for the life of him—open his mouth to say 'yes'. He frowned at Harry instead, a rumble of frustration at the back of his throat. "Damn it, Potter," he growled, "why the hell are you doing this?"

Harry made a noncommittal sound. He smiled. "I can't see you complaining, do I?"

Draco's face flushed, an angry scowl on his face. Before he could open his mouth Harry leaned in again, both his arms effectively pinning Draco under him as he shifted his weight to his palms resting on either side of Draco. "Just say you don't want this," he whispered against Draco's neck. "Say the word, Malfoy, and I'll leave you alone for good."

Draco closed his eyes and bit his lip to stifle a moan, his body arching instinctively upwards, hungry for contact. He could feel himself getting hard, his curled fingers that clutched the edge of the seat the only evidence of his strained self-control. "I…" his voice seemed to be stuck in his throat. Harry was now planting feather-light kisses along his neck, leaving searing hot need in their wake. "I…"

Draco opened his eyes and broke away, his eyes staring at Harry. He saw beads of sweat forming on Harry's brow, his breath coming in shallow gasps, his green eyes glazed with want and hunger that made Draco shiver even more. He felt the heat radiating off of their bodies, the palpable need they shared.

_Say the word, Malfoy, and I'll leave you alone for good. _Draco bit his lip, emotions fighting for dominance evident in his eyes. He could hear the voice of his common sense rise up and bellow against his ears. _Resist him!_

Draco let out a huge breath of air, halfway between a sob and a sigh of defeat. "I can't."

The next moment Harry's lips were on his, and Draco's resistance melted away like mist on sunlight. He opened his mouth to Harry, and Harry hungrily devoured him, tasting Draco, and Draco consumed him right back.

The taste of Harry was even better than Draco had ever imagined or dreamed of; he whimpered slightly against Harry, never breaking contact. Draco had never kissed anyone like this before. The kisses he knew how to give were cold, light touches, false endearments of love, never really giving his true self over.

The kiss he was sharing with Harry was nothing like that. This was a melodramatic touch that crossed the border between the senses: it was Harry's scent touching his skin, Harry's taste searing his soul into oblivion. Harry's kiss did not ask him to give himself; it consumed him without a second thought. It was the personification of want, need, lust, and passion all strewn together, and it was the sweetest pleasure that was almost too painful to break.

After a few seconds—or three hours—or a stretch of infinity—Harry broke away, his chest heaving, and Draco's eyes snapped open. "Potter, what—"

Before he could continue Harry began kissing Draco's neck again, this time adding his tongue to the touch, and all Draco could think was, _Oh._ When he reached the juncture between his neck and shoulder Harry licked at the spot before he bit down lightly and sucked _fiercely._

Draco bucked upwards, moaning in pleasure, his eyes rolling to the top of his skull. His hands had twined themselves down the front of Harry's shirt, which was stretched almost to the point of tearing because of Draco. But Harry did not seem to care; all his attention was on Draco. One of Harry's hands found Draco's stomach, and it was slowly creeping up under his shirt.

Jolts of electricity hit Draco wherever Harry's hand seemed to wander, and he squirmed underneath him, his hands moving of their own accord as they tugged earnestly at the hem of Harry's shirt. Harry pulled back and looked at Draco with a smirk, his green eyes almost glowing, his face just as sweaty and flushed as Draco's.

"Impatient are we?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. Draco looked up, his cheeks blushing fiercely.

"Shut up, Potter." And he pulled Harry down for another kiss, this time wrapping one arm around Harry's neck, securing him in place. His other hand was pulling up Harry's shirt from his back as he hungrily melted against Harry's mouth, their breaths hot and rapid against their skins.

A knock on the door made them spring apart, both their wands at the ready before they could blink. They were both gasping for air, their faces flushed.

A voice broke through the silence. "Harry? Are you there? It's me, mate." Ron's voice.

Draco stiffened when he recognized Ronald Weasley's voice coming from the other side of the compartment door. He looked wildly at Harry, his face suddenly pale.

_Shit!_

"In a bit, Ron," Harry called out, his voice surprisingly steady. He pocketed his wand quickly and pulled out his trunk from under the seat, opening it with a click and thrusting his arms inside, looking for something. "Just hold on for a minute."

The knocking on the door stopped. Draco swallowed; his throat suddenly felt dry. "Potter…" he whispered dangerously, his brow furrowing. What was he going to do now? How were they going to explain themselves?

For a wild moment Draco considered snuffing out Weasley with the Killing Curse, and anybody else who was unfortunate enough to be standing outside with him, but thought better of it. For one thing, he didn't think he could even cast the Killing Curse and actually _hurt_ someone. For another, he did not think Harry would be too keen on Draco killing his friend.

_Wait a minute…since when have I started to consider what Harry would think regarding my actions?_

Draco jumped when he felt something cover him entirely, until he couldn't see anything but Harry's vague silhouette against some cool, silken fabric. Harry pulled him upright and set him standing right against the window. "Stay there and don't move." Harry moved towards the compartment door, and it flew open before Draco could speak.

o 0 o

[Additional Notes As many of you might have already noticed, this story seems to lack most of the conflicts in the HP books. I have deliberately isolated those from this piece, because it makes everything so much more simple, and if you think about it, it's impossible for Harry and Draco to be in these circumstances, or react the way they did. Perhaps it would be safer to call this fiction an AU type. Also, I would like to take this opportunity to everyone who left their reviews, and have shown me how much they love this story. My heartfelt gratitude belongs to all of you. Oh yes, and I have read rumors around the internet about the seventh book…quite interesting to see that Dudley's not really a Muggle. And even Hedwig will die…huh. Well, I'll just go buy my own copy of the book and see for myself. Cheers.


	3. Disbelief to Hesitation

Chapter 3 **Disbelief to Hesitation**, in which Draco finds himself at a loss when confronted with the painful truth.

_Author's Notes: This story contains SLASH; if you are not comfortable with reading fanfiction of this element, please hit the back button. Otherwise, you may proceed. Lemon scenes ahead; you have been forewarned._

Draco immediately stiffened at the sight of Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger walking inside the train compartment with Harry closing the door behind him. He remained perfectly still, trying to calm his rapid breathing. His lips throbbed from kissing Harry, and his clothes still felt too tight, but he did not move. His grudging admiration for Harry's Invisibility Cloak, which was quite rare and very expensive, barely even registered in his brain.

Weasley sat down on the seat he had been occupying earlier and stretched his arms, yawning. "That stupid meeting was a downright bore. Man, I'm hungry." He took out a Chocolate Frog from his pocket.

Granger rolled her eyes and gave him a disapproving sniff. "That's because you weren't paying any attention!" She sat down beside Ron and stiffened. She frowned, her hand grabbing something from behind her. "What's this?"

Draco's heart skipped a beat. _That's my wand!_

Harry looked up and saw the wand in Hermione's hand. Draco's eyes darted towards Harry, gritting his teeth. _Now what?_

Harry shrugged. "I think that girl from Ravenclaw forgot her wand. She came here a while ago." He gave an exasperated sigh and leaned back against his chair. "They were trying to sneak up on me again," he added, genuine irritation obvious in his voice.

Draco saw Granger's lips quirk into a smile. "Just like last year?"

"Those girls are seriously demented, mate," Weasley said through a mouthful of chocolate.

The Mudblood laughed. "Well, considering that Harry _does_ have a body to die for…what? It's true," she said nonchalantly at the expression on Weasley's face. "Harry's grown up very nicely since we all started at Hogwarts. That's why girls follow him around so much." She smiled again. "And seeing Harry half naked helped, too."

Weasley looked baffled. "What's so good about seeing Harry without his shirt on?"

Draco could not hold back a derisive snort. He had no idea Weasley was this oblivious. Well, he had his suspicions before, but to have proven those suspicions right was just too priceless. But even before he could gloat he realized he had made a very audible noise, and the three other occupants froze for a moment. Hermione and Ron looked slightly puzzled, but Harry shot a warning glare in Draco's general direction before he cleared his throat.

"Sorry, my throat's a bit scratchy," he said in feigned apology. Both of Harry's friends accepted the excuse easily enough, much to Draco's relief. Harry took the wand from Granger and twirled it idly in one hand. Draco's relief changed into unease. There was something about the way Harry was smiling, the way his eyes darted towards the windows, a twinkle of mischief in them that made Draco feel like he ought to be throttling Harry by his neck right about now. But he stayed still, his eyes still on his wand, his ears pricked.

"So," Harry began, "what do we do about the wand?"

Granger frowned slightly. "I suppose we should return it right away; it wouldn't do to upset someone because they thought they lost their wand. What was her name?"

Draco was impressed with Harry's acting skills. He pretended to think seriously about it for a few moments before shaking his head. "I forgot her name."

"Well, what does she look like?" Granger asked patiently.

"Let's see…" Harry turned his head towards the window, narrowing his eyes. Draco glared at him from underneath the Invisibility Cloak. Although he was hidden from view, Draco was in Harry's direct line of sight, and it irked him to realize that Harry was deliberately doing this just to spite him. _When I get my hands on you, Potter—_

_You'll do a lot more than just pull on his shirt, won't you?_ interrupted a voice inside his head, and despite his best efforts Draco felt a warm rush of blood to his cheeks, which only increased his irritation. He gritted his teeth and listened to Harry's next words.

"She's a bit shorter than me," Harry continued, a corner of his lips curled into a smirk, hidden from Hermione and Ron's view. "And she has blond hair. A bit thin, though. And snobbish, to tell the truth."

"Blond?" Ron cut in, a grin on his face. "Don't tell me that Muggle girl managed to follow you all the way here?" He laughed. "I wouldn't be too surprised if she did; from the way she looked at you, it was pretty obvious she wanted to eat you."

Draco narrowed his eyes and glared at Ron, cold iron that could freeze water piercing through the cloak. _What Muggle girl?_ For some reason, the thought of a girl flirting with Harry grated his nerves. Slowly, very slowly, he took a step towards Harry.

Harry laughed together with Ron; he obviously remembered the blond girl. "Yeah, but she was…I dunno…too pink for my taste." He looked in the direction of where Draco was supposed to be, although in truth the Slytherin was now standing right next to him, the hem of the cloak already touching the tips of Harry's trainers.

Draco carefully—very, very carefully—raised one foot off the floor and slammed it down directly onto Harry's right foot.

With a yelp Harry pulled back his foot and fell off his seat. Draco smirked in satisfaction, stepping back and admiring his work. Harry was being helped up by Weasley, who, along with the Mudblood, looked startled and confused by Harry's sudden loud movements.

"What's wrong?" asked Granger, concern in her voice. "What happened?"

"I'm fine," Harry grunted as he stood up, his green eyes flashing dangerously behind his glasses. He was looking straight at Draco. "I'll just go and give the wand back to that Ravenclaw…I think she's staying with Luna Lovegood." Without another word he yanked the compartment door open and rushed out, stepping into the hall and pausing for a while, looking to the left and right.

Draco knew Harry was doing this on purpose to give him time to get out with him, so he wasted no effort to exit the compartment and stand near Harry. As if on cue Harry closed the door with a quick movement, grabbed Draco's wrist hard in one hand, and half-dragged him into the direction of the changing rooms halfway down the train.

For a moment Draco was startled when Harry grabbed his hand, but then indignation and anger bubbled up inside his stomach. "Are you trying to break my arm Potter?! Let go of my hand!" he growled as threateningly as he could in a barely-heard whisper, in case someone was nearby.

Harry did not answer. Instead he pulled at Draco's arm even harder, making the Slytherin wince with pain. Harry's fingers dug into his pale skin, and Draco was fairly certain it was going to leave deep, red marks later on. He growled under his breath and pulled back, but Harry only dragged him on relentlessly until they came upon an empty booth. He pushed Draco inside and locked the door.

Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak from Draco and was welcomed with a cold, hard glare. Stormy gray clashed with darkened jade, the air almost crackling with the tension. Draco was the first to break the silence.

"Give me my wand back, Potter."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And since when have I taken orders from you?"

Draco's anger flared. "Give the damn wand here, Potty!" he hissed.

"And now we're back to insulting each other? For a moment back there I thought we'd already gone past that," Harry replied dryly. Only his eyes showed just how angry he was at the moment. With a wordless flick of his wand Harry pointed at the door briefly. The entire room glowed yellow for a moment before it returned to normal.

Draco stepped back warily. "What did you do?" he demanded. A trickle of fear crept up his spine, but he kept his eyes on Harry, his face pulled into an angry frown.

"I just made sure no one will be able to overhear our conversation," Harry answered. He crossed his arms and glared at Draco. "Now. What were you playing at, stepping on my foot like that?"

Draco bristled. "I don't have to explain every bloody thing I do, Potter," he snapped. "And what were _you_ doing, telling Weasley and Granger all those stupid things about me—I am NOT thin and snobbish!"

Harry's face cracked into a smile, his eyes twinkling. "Sure you are. You're also a git, by the way, but I couldn't describe a 'girl' like that." His smile widened when Draco's nostrils flared in anger, pink flushing his cheeks.

For a moment Draco didn't speak. "I am _not_ a girl," he said waspishly. Harry laughed. The sound made Draco's heart skip, but he carefully maintained his angry, irritated look.

"Should I have told them that Draco Malfoy was in a _locked_ compartment _alone_ with me?" Harry asked, and he raked back his unruly hair with one free hand. The other was holding both his and Draco's wand. "I thought you were pretty clever, Malfoy."

The jibe only ruffled Draco's feathers even more. It seemed that the more Harry threw veiled insults at him, the angrier he became. Harry's infuriating smile made a nerve on Draco's temple twitch. "Just give me my wand back, Potter," he repeated, this time carefully making sure his voice was as calm as he could manage. Being reminded that he had been alone with Harry only moments before brought back the vivid sensations and the sweet pleasure, and it made the room suddenly very hot and very _small_. Draco knew he had to get out. Fast.

Harry was oblivious to the internal dilemma Draco was facing. He stepped back until he was leaning casually against the locked door, his arms crossed in front of him. "You haven't answered my question yet."

"To hell with your questions," Draco snapped again, his anger increasing along with his rising panic. "Give me my wand _now_."

"Why did you step on my foot?"

"Who cares about your lousy foot, Potter?! You've got two the same as any of us, and it's not like it's _bleeding_ or anything. Give me back my wand!" Draco's voice rose with every word, until he was already shouting at Harry.

Harry was unmoved. "Why—did—you—step—on—my—foot?" he enunciated slowly, his green eyes piercing.

The thought of the Muggle girl Weasley mentioned flashed in Draco's mind, and he unconsciously blushed. He turned his eyes away, not wanting Harry to see the truth. "Forget it," he grumbled, walking towards the door. "I can buy another wand, anyway."

Harry blocked his path. Draco found the floor very interesting all of a sudden, and he kept his eyes trained on it. He clenched his fist, mentally calling himself ten kinds of idiot for lashing out when he should have reined in his emotions completely. He was too deep in his own thoughts that he had almost not heard Harry's words.

"Look at me, Malfoy."

_Not if I can help it._ Draco stiffened at Harry's suddenly soft but toneless voice, but he did not look up. He resolutely stared at the floor and down at his shoes.

Harry smiled inwardly at Draco's display. _Prick_, he thought. _Acting like a spoiled brat._ He lifted Draco's chin with his hand and stared at Draco's stormy gray eyes. Draco's brow was furrowed slightly, growling behind his throat, but otherwise did not move. Harry suddenly had a bright idea.

Sensing that he was up to something, Draco was spurred into action. He stepped back, breaking away from Harry's touch. "I want to get out, Potter. Step aside."

Harry took a step towards Draco. "Make me."

Without warning Draco lunged for Harry, one hand closed into a fist, but Harry easily dodged, side-stepping at the last moment. Draco lost his balance as his fist came into contact with air. He would have fallen, but Harry had grabbed both his arms and pinned him to the wall. "What are you so damn pissed off about, Malfoy?" he asked with a slight frown at the effort of keeping Draco still.

Draco struggled furiously against Harry's hands, holding up his arms. Harry was using his legs to keep Draco's own from moving and kicking about. Since Harry had the height and power advantage between the both of them, Draco only ended up gasping for breath, sweat collecting under his robes. He glared at Harry with as much hatred as he could muster. "First you take my wand, then you lock me in here, and _then_ you ask me why I'm so damn pissed off?"

"You were already this angry even before I refused to give you your wand."

"What makes you so sure?" Draco sneered.

Harry's face was unreadable as he answered, "Don't tell me you attempted to squash my foot just because you felt like it." His emerald eyes seemed to swallow Draco up as he stared hard at him. "What are you so mad about?"

"I have no bloody idea," Draco replied sarcastically. "Maybe your Muggle girlfriend would know, why not ask her?" he added spitefully.

Harry blinked, the anger dissolving on his face. For a moment he did not speak. And then he laughed out loud, throwing his head back, although his hold on Malfoy did not loosen.

"What's so funny?" Draco snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Harry only shook his head in mirth, laughing until he went out of breath. He leaned his head on Draco's shoulder for a moment to gulp in air before looking back at Draco, this time with an amused smile. "You're jealous, Malfoy?"

Draco's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets, his mouth opening and closing several times before he managed, "What the hell do you—I'm not—how could you possibly—I—I am NOT jealous!" he squawked indignantly, and his anger returned three-fold. "You arrogant git, who do you think you are? And why would I be jealous of YOU?"

"Did I say you were jealous of me?" Harry asked mildly, and for a moment Draco was motionless until the words sank in.

"WHY WOULD I BE JEALOUS OF A MUGGLE?!"

Harry laughed again, and this time Draco fought back even harder. He wanted to wipe that silly grin off Harry's face! He wanted to punch him senseless and skin him alive, and he wanted to throw himself out the window for his stupid blabbering mouth!

As Draco struggled to release himself, Harry said conversationally, "Lucky for you, Malfoy, your jealousy is pointless. I'm not interested in…well, I forgot her name, but I can assure you I'm not interested in her." He smiled and put more pressure on his legs pinning down Malfoy's thighs, and Draco froze. "I'm not interested in her at all."

For a second Draco thought Harry was going to kiss him. Panic rose in his chest; he didn't think he could handle being thoroughly snogged by Harry _again_. Draco also did not think his sanity could survive for much longer, being tortured by this. As Harry leaned his face in, Draco cast his mind around quickly for something—anything—to say. "You saw me even though I was under the Invisibility Cloak, didn't you?"

Harry stopped a mere centimeter from Draco's face. He pulled his head back and tilted his head. "Yeah, I did. But I only managed to cast the spell after you stepped on my foot."

Draco frowned. "But that's a really difficult spell. And I didn't even see you use your wand."

"Something I learned from Dumbledore," Harry shrugged. "Just a bit of wandless magic, that's all."

"That's _all_?" Draco repeated incredulously. "What do you mean, that's all? Not every wizard can perform wandless magic, Potter, and very few people can manage the spell to see Invisible things."

"Why the sudden interest in my spell casting?" Harry rolled his eyes. "Where were we…? Oh yeah, somewhere about _here."_ He nudged Draco against the wall to make his point. He grinned an almost feral smile. "Care to have another go?"

Draco's eyes flared. "No, I don't want to, thanks," he said coldly, even as Harry leaned in and began trailing kisses down to his collarbone. Draco shuddered involuntarily and closed his eyes tightly, swallowing hard.

Draco could feel himself going limp against Harry, his knees turning to jelly as Harry continued to trail a path with his lips by following Draco's jaw line, his tongue flickering continuously against his skin. "Potter…you git," Draco hissed.

"M-hmm," Harry replied absently. Harry was no longer holding up Draco's arms; his hands were now rubbing up and down against Draco's sides, sending delicious friction through the Slytherin, making him moan. Harry's tongue teased Draco's ear. "I know," he added in a breathy whisper, his lips moving against Draco's earlobe.

Harry's right knee had managed to slip against Draco's inner thigh, and he was rubbing against him slowly as his lips continued kissing and teasing Draco, this time on the other side of his neck. "Arrogant…bastard…" Draco managed to say amid the white hot pleasure assailing his senses.

Harry smiled against Draco's skin. "I can be like that sometimes, too." He continued teasing Draco like this, kissing and licking, his hands rubbing, and Draco could only moan and whimper in response. His own arms and legs seemed to have forgotten how to move. As Harry rubbed his knee particularly hard against his thigh Draco felt so hot with the need to touch Harry he thought he might burst. He would not be denied what he wanted. With a growl he pulled up Harry's face with his hands and kissed him fiercely, his tongue plunging into Harry's mouth without further ado.

Harry opened himself to the kiss willingly, allowing Draco a few moments of dominance before he kissed him back with savage ferocity. Lust overrode his senses, and he instinctively bucked his hips against Draco.

The sudden jolt of pleasure made them both gasp, and Draco pulled away, his chest heaving, his body throbbing with pleasure and need. He looked at Harry, who was breathing just as hard as he was. "Do it again."

Harry complied willingly, thrusting his hips forward, and both he and Draco let out audible moans of pressure. Draco curled his arms around Harry's neck and caught Harry's lips in his. Harry rubbed himself against Draco in time with his tongue, flickering in and out of Draco's mouth. They were both very hard now, and they could feel it between layers of clothing, the painful throbbing overcome by exquisite pleasure with each thrust.

"Ah…" Draco panted against Harry, the warmth pooling in the pit of his belly sending his senses into overdrive, pushing him over the edge, and deep inside Draco knew that even if he wanted to, he could not make himself stop. "Potter…harder…"

Harry's reply was a kiss, deeper and hotter than the ones before. And as he thrust harder against Draco, the kiss became sloppier, but they did not care; all they felt was mind-numbing pleasure, such searing warmth that hummed in their bodies, and that was enough.

"…can't find him anywhere, Blaise."

"…you look everywhere?"

Muffled voices from outside broke through the hazy pleasure in Harry's mind. "Someone…coming…Malfoy…" he managed to say between gasps for air as he kissed Draco.

Draco wasn't paying him any attention; he wanted to try something. Timing Harry's thrusts against his, he pushed his hips towards Harry just as Harry did.

This time it was Harry who moaned loudly, pulling his head back, and Draco inwardly smirked. "Oops. Sorry, Potter, my bad. I won't—mph!" Draco's words drowned in another kiss, accompanied with more thrusts and moans that came from both of them.

"Are you sure you looked everywhere?"

"Yes! But I can't find him!"

"…Let's try the changing rooms. _Alohomora!_"

There was a loud bang as a door was pulled open. Harry and Draco froze, listening. Voices emerged after a while.

"He's not here," came a girl's whimper. "Where is he?"

"There are a lot more rooms to check out. We'll open each one."

Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. Harry looked down at Draco, the heat in his green eyes slowly fading. "I think it's time for me to go." He released his grip on Draco and stepped back, pulling out a wand. "Here."

Draco blinked at his own wand in Harry's hand for a few seconds. The air was slowly cooling, his breath becoming more even. It felt strange to Draco, who had been getting used to the close proximity and the warmth of Harry's body engulfing him. He took the wand slowly in one hand. He did not want Harry to leave. Not yet. They were so close to… "Right," he managed to croak out. His throat felt rather raw.

Harry gave Draco a genuinely warm smile that did not have the smallest trace of spite or malice. "You should fix your clothes and your hair. You look like a mess." He picked up the Invisibility Cloak that lay discarded on the ground.

Draco flushed consciously, tugging down his shirt that had managed to creep up his stomach, exposing his pale skin, and flattened down his blond hair. "Your hair is messy."

Harry laughed. "It's always like this." He raked a hand through his hair and grinned at Draco. For a moment Draco could not breathe; a painful ache throbbed dully against his chest at the sight of Harry grinning at him, and it was all he could do not to crumple to the floor.

"Let's try opening this one," disrupted Blaise's voice on the other side of the door.

Draco stiffened. He took a step towards Harry, who already had the cloak wrapped around his body; only his head was visible now. "I'll slip outside when the coast is clear," Harry said. He looked at Draco.

Draco understood almost at once. "Yeah, sure. I'll distract them." Harry smiled gratefully, his face slowly disappearing into thin air as he lifted the cloak over his head.

Draco frowned. Wait, there was something he wanted to tell Harry… "Potter, wait."

Harry stopped and turned to Draco, tilting his head in silent question, green eyes piercing. Draco took an inaudible intake of breath. _Oh god. I really _do_ want him._ He closed his eyes, feeling his heart throb against his chest.

_So…when are you going to tell me about her?_ His mother's voice echoed inside Draco's head. Suddenly he was frightened. Somehow he knew that if he told Harry what he felt, things would go horribly wrong. The thought of what Narcissa—or worse, his Father—would say when they saw Harry together with him…it made Draco's knees go weak.

With proficiency borne of practice Draco kept his face smooth and inscrutable. "Never mind. Just go."

The smile that had been forming on Harry's face faded. His eyes hardened perceptibly and he nodded before disappearing entirely, wrapped in his Invisibility Cloak.

Draco let out the breath he had been holding, feeling his stomach fall through an unseen hole. With one wave of his wand his clothes arranged themselves neatly on his lithe frame, his hair back in its usual place just as the door burst open, and Pansy Parkinson came squealing in delight at having found him, Blaise just behind her shaking his head.

As he effortlessly formed a lie, explaining where he had gone, Draco thought he saw, out of the corner of his eyes, clear green ones stare at him for a moment. He blinked, and it was gone, like a mirage born from a trick of the light, a dull ache in his chest growing in its absence. This pain, Draco knew, was not a trick of the light. He clenched his fist hard as he put on his usual mask of cold arrogance and led his fellow Slytherins out of the room and into their usual compartment. He turned back once, in the direction of Harry's compartment. The dull ache throbbed once, painfully.

When they had settled themselves inside the compartment, Pansy frowned at Draco in worry. "Are you sure nothing happened?"

Draco had to keep from rolling his eyes. "I'm fine. Nothing happened." The lie was bitter on his tongue, and it put him in a dour mood. With a frown he stared out the window, watching the trees whiz past, avoiding conversation. _Nothing happened._

As the Hogwarts Express traveled slowly through a deep, dense forest, Draco found himself trying all too late to convince him that nothing truly happened. That he had only given in to hormone-induced lust, to something that did not go beyond physical pleasure. But the ache in his chest mocked him, and Draco knew he could not fight back.

o 0 o

_End of Chapter 3. Please read and then review. As this is a Work-In-Progress (WIP), all your constructive comments and criticisms are welcome, and would most certainly help to make this story even more erotic—er, I mean, interesting. Dedicated to all HPDM supporters and slash writers. Next: Chapter 4, __**Hesitation to Cowardice**_in which a befuddled Harry tries to pry the truth from a confused and frightened Draco with the help of a bowl of lemon wedges, salt, and a bottle of tequila. evil grin


	4. Hesitation to Cowardice part 1

Chapter 4: **Hesitation to Cowardice**, in which a befuddled Harry tries to pry the truth from a confused and frightened Draco with the help of a bowl of lemon wedges, salt, and a bottle of tequila. (part 1 of 2)

_Author's Notes: Again, this chapter contains SLASH (HPDM); if you are uncomfortable reading stories of this type, please hit the back button. Otherwise you may proceed. This chapter also contains LEMON scenes. You have been forewarned. WARNING: Drink alcoholic beverages moderately, and preferably when you have complete control of your senses._

Harry did not stop walking until he reached Luna's compartment. Pulling off the Invisibility Cloak when no one was around, he knocked on the door.

"Come in," came Luna's voice. Harry pulled open the door and stuck his head in.

"Oh. Hello, Harry," Luna greeted. "Care to join us?" She offered him a pumpkin pasty.

"No, thanks, Luna. I wanted to talk to Ginny."

Ginny looked up and gave Harry a questioning look. Harry shook his head slightly and shot quick glances at Luna still reading the _Quibbler_ and Neville who was currently sleeping with his mouth hanging slightly open. The Ravenclaw girls were gone. Ginny nodded.

Harry stepped back as Ginny walked out the compartment and closed the door. "What is it?"

Harry handed her the cloak. "Can you keep this for me? I'll get it back after the Sorting feast tonight."

"Alright." Ginny took the cloak and folded it in her hands. She looked at Harry, studying his face. "Did something happen?"

"Not really," Harry lied. "Look, I just need you to keep the cloak hidden for a while." Harry did not say anymore, hoping she would understand. He and Ginny had become close over the years, and Harry found that he could sometimes tell her things that he couldn't tell Hermione or Ron.

Ginny was silent for a few moments. "I suppose you don't want Hermione or my brother to know?"

Harry nodded, giving her a grateful look. "I don't want to complicate things right now."

"Something personal?"

Harry paused, thinking it over. "It's personal," he admitted, and looked straight into her eyes. "Something I have to sort out on my own."

Ginny looked at Harry carefully. She saw the troubled confusion in his deep green eyes, the sharp pang of pain. Was it disappointment? Rejection? She really couldn't tell. With a sigh she shrugged. "Just tell me when you need it back. I'll be keeping it in my trunk until then."

Harry gave her a grateful look, and squeezed her arm in a friendly gesture. "Thanks."

Ginny tilted her head. "Is it Cho?"

Harry looked genuinely confused. "Huh?"

"Oh never mind. Forget I ever said anything," Ginny waved her hand in a shooing gesture. "Later, Harry." She gave him a smile and went inside the compartment without another word.

Harry blinked for a few seconds at the spot where Ginny stood seconds ago. _Cho? What about her?_ Harry's brow furrowed. He started walking back to the compartment where Hermione and Ron were waiting for him. _What's troubling me right now is Draco Malfoy. As usual._

Or maybe not so usual. Harry could not help letting out a sigh. After what he did to Malfoy just moments ago, after what they _both did to each other,_ Harry realized that he wasn't merely attracted to Draco Malfoy. He stopped, frowning at the floor. Never in his entire life did he expect this. He closed his eyes, shutting out the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him at this silent admission.

He grimaced inwardly. He did not think Hermione or Ron would take too kindly too this news. _Scratch that,_ Harry groaned. _Hermione might take this calmly, but Ron…Ron would hack me to pieces._ Still, he can't keep this kind of thing secret from them. He just needed the perfect timing, that's all. Worry shot through him. _If there ever _is _a perfect timing for this._

Harry leaned against one side of the narrow hallway, his body swaying slightly with the movements of the train, his hands covering his face in a hopeless gesture.

_Wait, this is too fast._ Harry took a deep breath and calmed himself somewhat. _So I'm not just attracted to Malfoy—fine. But that doesn't mean that I…that I…_ Harry swallowed hard. Even to himself, he couldn't say it. Saying it meant it was true, and that meant things would certainly change with him and Malfoy. Even though the Slytherin remained the same and continued to hate Harry as much as before, Harry would never be able to return the same seething hatred towards him, not when he felt…

Cursing under his breath, Harry gritted his teeth and felt his knuckles turn white, pressing against his closed eyes, green and red popping in the darkness of his eyelids. How did things turn out like _this?_ He did not ask to fall for Malfoy. It just sort of…happened. Harry tried to remember. Was it during the ice cream incident? Inside the compartment? The changing room?

_No, it was earlier than that._

Was it during their first Quidditch match then? Harry frowned, knowing that was not it. The train gave a slight lurch, throwing Harry slightly off-balance, and the sudden motion seemed to de-rail his thoughts. He stood up and raked a hand through his hair again, shaking his head slightly. He walked in the direction of his compartment. It didn't matter how it began. Knowing wouldn't make things any easier. He opened his eyes, now alight with a sense of purpose. What matters was that it did, and Harry just had to accept it.

_And Draco Malfoy?_

Harry unconsciously flinched at the question. Although he had no plans of keeping his feelings to himself, Harry knew it would be more than just difficult to confess outright, given the circumstances they were both in. It would need more courage than he thought he had, to tell Malfoy the truth, and wait for his reaction. Harry thought he'd rather face ten basilisks and twice the number of Hungarian Horntails with nothing but a stick.

_What will come, will come,_ Harry thought to himself, remembering something that Hagrid had said. And he would deal with it when the time was right.

o 0 o

As Harry's figure retreated, Ginny drew back from the slightly ajar compartment door and sat down, biting her lower lip. She stared down at her shoes and frowned. Luna put down the magazine and tilted her head, first at Neville's still-sleeping form, and then at Ginny.

"Is something wrong?"

"Hm?" Ginny answered absently. "Ah, no. Nothing."

Luna nodded once and glanced at the compartment door. "Whatever it is that's troubling Harry, I'm sure he can handle it himself," she said eventually in her dreamy voice, smiling wanly at Ginny. She took up the _Quibbler_ again.

Ginny sighed. She was already used to Luna's creepily accurate statements, as if the Ravenclaw could see through people's minds. "Yeah, maybe. Harry's tougher than any of us."

"He is, isn't he? Still…" and Luna shrugged lightly, smiling at something she was reading, "it won't be too bad to give him a little push in the right direction sometimes, even if he doesn't ask for it."

Ginny considered Luna's words carefully. Neville snored lightly in his sleep beside her. She sat back and looked out the window, where the view was steadily growing darker, the forest thicker. "I agree."

o 0 o

A flood of cheers and applause greeted Harry as he climbed up the portrait hole, still wearing his Quidditch uniform that was all muddy and wet, his Firebolt clutched in one hand and the Snitch in his pocket. A wide grin was plastered on his face as Hermione and Ron pulled him into the Gryffindor common room, now decorated with bright red and gold streamers, Gryffindors everywhere shook his hands, his broom, whatever extremity of Harry's they could reach, others patting his back. They had won their first Quidditch game in the season against Hufflepuff.

"Brilliant, Potter!"

"You've done it again!"

"Amazing!"

—_flattened _Hufflepuff!"

Ron grinned like a lunatic beside him. "Couldn't have put it better myself," he chuckled.

Harry's grin had not faded. "You were awesome, too. Made a few spectacular saves, didn't you?"

Ron rubbed his nose at the compliment, his ears burning, Hermione giggling beside him. "Well…I wasn't really…"

"Come off it, Ron," Hermione chided. "You were great. _Both_ of you." She gave them both a hug and went off to find Ginny in the crowd. Harry and Ron were instantly surrounded by their house mates, eagerly wanting to listen to a play-by-play narration of that afternoon's match, even though every one of them was in the stands watching. Someone had procured butterbeers somewhere and was passing them along. Seamus and Dean arrived carrying large baskets of Honeydukes sweets. To Harry's surprise, Dobby was trailing after them, carrying a hamper of sandwiches and cakes three times larger than he was.

"Where did you guys get all this stuff?" Ron asked, amazed.

Seamus and Dean gave him a wink. "Learned the tricks of the trade from Fred and George, of course." When Dean left to distribute the food, Seamus leaned forward and whispered so that only Harry could hear, "I've got a victory gift for you, Harry. From Dean and the others; we'll take it out later." With an impish grin he strode off, leaving Harry slightly baffled.

Ginny and the other Chasers cheered for Harry as he walked past them, grinning from ear to ear. They were all still wearing their dirty Quidditch uniforms, even Ron, but none of them cared. They won by an amazing three hundred and seventy points, even though it was raining hard, though fortunately without any strong winds.

"When's the next match?" Ginny asked nobody in particular. It was Ron who answered.

"A fortnight from today against Slytherin."

Harry's stomach did a funny little skip. He was going to face Malfoy off in a Quidditch match so soon?

After the events in the train, Harry had noticed that Malfoy had given him a very wide berth, deliberately arriving first and departing last from double Potions class, and rarely patrolling the corridors like a prefect should. Hermione and Ron had not noticed, and Harry outwardly showed complete indifference, but he could not help wonder if maybe Malfoy was avoiding him.

It had been weeks since he had last spoken with Malfoy, and it made Harry increasingly uneasy. Nowadays he would usually find himself staring off into space, thinking about the Slytherin. He had even taken to watching Draco Malfoy walk in and out of the Great Hall at mealtimes, surreptitiously throwing glances at him while Harry ate or talked with his friends.

And after all this time, he still hadn't told Ron or Hermione anything. He watched as Ron enthusiastically re-enacted the actions of the game, enjoying the attention, and Harry felt his heart clench. He knew Ron would never believe him—or worse, Ron _would_ believe him, and their friendship would be ruined. Falling in love with a guy was bad enough, but falling for _Malfoy?_

The feast lasted until midnight. When most had gone up to bed, some of them still cheering and congratulating the Gryffindor team, Seamus motioned for Harry and Ron to come over to where he, Dean, and Neville were seated around a small circle in front of the fireplace.

Harry sat down on the carpeted floor and raised an intrigued brow. "Is this the victory gift you were telling me about?"

"What is it?" Ron asked.

Seamus gave a light chuckle and took out three large, long-necked bottles of clear liquid. Harry picked one up and read the label. "This is…tequila?"

Seamus nodded, his chest puffed up with pride. "I got those from my own…er, connections!" He took out a large plate of lemon wedges and a salt shaker. "Let's toast to a fantastic Gryffindor victory!"

Harry was surprised. "You drink this stuff?"

"I told him about it," Dean explained. "I didn't think Firewhiskey was special enough for the occasion." A grin identical to Seamus's appeared on his face. "I figured, since we're celebrating what's bound to become Gryffindor's third consecutive Quidditch Cup—"

"Hear! Hear!" cheered Neville.

"—then we might as well drink something…more interesting."

"Interesting?" Harry repeated, his tone slightly doubtful. He had seen Dudley and his gang chug a bottle of the alcoholic drink by themselves, and they were down for the count before they even halved the second bottle. He looked at the three bottles on the carpet before him. "Don't tell me we're going to drink all of this in one go."

Dean snorted. "'Course not. We took an extra bottle to give to you. For safekeeping, until the next celebrations, eh?"

Harry took the bottle and shrugged, although he was also smiling. Seamus took out five small glasses no taller than his thumb and placed it down beside the tequila. Ron frowned.

"Those glasses are too small, aren't they?"

Harry sighed. "Trust me Ron, you wouldn't want to swallow a glassful of this on its own. _No one_ in their right minds would do it."

Ron looked doubtfully at the seemingly innocent-looking bottle of colorless liquid, but he nodded. Harry mentally sighed, telling himself to hold back the tequila as much as possible. He had an inkling that before they finished the first bottle, the others would need someone sober enough to pull them up to bed. A wry smile crept up Harry's lips. Or Obliviate the memory of their most embarrassing moment…

o 0 o

Ron groaned for the seventh time that day and looked up at Harry. "Did I really do that, Harry? Please tell me I didn't."

"You didn't, Ron."

There were a few moments of silence. "But I did, didn't I?"

Harry shrugged, trying hard to contain a laugh. "You did, actually. While singing."

Ron's eyes went round as saucers. "While—I—_singing_?!"

Although Harry had already considered it, he had not actually Obliviated his friends' memories of what happened last night after fifteen rounds of tequila shots. Harry didn't even bother to hide the fact that he was the only one among them who didn't end up getting drunk and waking up that morning with a painful hangover. Seeing Seamus, Dean, Neville, and Ron groaning from their beds, moaning about stupid headaches, and freezing over with shock when Harry relayed what they did last night was a pitying sight, but he could not hold back a laugh. It was, after all, extremely funny.

"Shut up, Harry," Seamus muttered as he laid his forehead against the long table. They were taking breakfast in the Great Hall, Hermione and Ginny listening with barely-contained smiles of amusement. "You cheated; you should have been drunk like the rest of us."

"And ended up dancing and singing a rowdy song with you guys half naked and traipsing up and down the common room? I think not."

"Half naked?" Ginny repeated curiously. Lavender Brown was laughing.

"They still had their shirts on," Harry answered grinning. "But all their pants were—"

"I said shut it!" Seamus hissed, and Gryffindors around the table laughed. Ron groaned again and clutched his head.

"Oww…"

Hermione sniffed, although she was also grinning. "Serves you boys right, drinking alcohol inside the school. A good thing I was already asleep, or I would have taken points off Gryffindor for it."

"You wouldn't though," Ron retorted without any real anger. "Since it was all part of the celebrations. Besides, the tequila was actually good. I wonder if Seamus could swipe a few more bottles…"

"You—are—a—_prefecf!" _Hermione hissed at him, but Ron ignored her, still clutching his head.

"So if your heads really hurt a lot, why don't you go to Madame Pomfrey?" Ginny asked.

"And then what? She'd find out we were drinking last night, she'd tell McGonagall, and then we'd get detention," Dean mumbled beside Seamus, opening a bleary eye at Ginny. "What's more, she might not even cure our hangovers for us, as some sort of punishment."

"Don't any of you know any spells to remove hangovers?" Neville asked.

"No," Hermione answered. "And even if I did, I wouldn't do it."

Harry patted Ron's back. "Tough luck."

Ron groaned and looked pleadingly at Harry. "Can't you do anything?"

Harry sighed. "Alright. I'll go see Madame Pomfrey." Hermione made to protest, but Harry beat her to it. "Don't you think they've had enough? Have a heart, Hermione, they're all groaning like they've been attacked by Blast-Ended Skrewts."

Hermione's stern expression faltered. She glanced at Ron and sighed. "Oh alright. But hurry up; Charms class will start in fifteen minutes."

Harry gave a quick wave and set off for the Hospital Wing. Once out of the Great Hall, he turned and promptly crashed into someone.

Pansy Parkinson gave a yelp as she collided with Harry. She ended up sitting on the stone floor, her bag spilling books and rolls of parchment. She glared up at Harry. "Watch where you're going Potty!"

"I wasn't the one running like an idiot, Parkinson," Harry answered coldly with a glare of his own. Still, he offered his hand to help her up.

Pansy stared at Harry's hand as if it were a snake. "What are you doing?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Helping you, Parkinson, what do you think?"

Pansy narrowed her eyes. "You're up to something."

"Like what? I'm not the Slytherin here, you are," Harry snapped despite himself. Raking a hand back through his hair, he said, "Look. I'm only helping you up, it's the least I could do. I _did_ crash into you. Come on, I haven't got all day, unless you prefer to get cozy on the floor, which is fine by me."

After a few moments of tense silence Pansy grudgingly took Harry's hand. After he hoisted her up he helped grab her stuff scattered on the floor and gave it to her. "Here."

Pansy took her books and parchment and stuffed it inside her bag. "Thanks," she muttered in a grudging tone.

Harry was surprised. Pansy was _thanking_ him? This day was starting to become really strange. "Er, it's nothing." Harry turned and set off for the Hospital Wing again.

"Have you seen Draco?"

Harry stopped and turned. He raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you know that?"

He could see Pansy's face flush slightly pink even though she had a slightly angry look. "He wasn't in the common room when I left."

Harry tried to remember if he saw Malfoy inside the Great Hall. "No, I didn't see him at the Slytherin Table." He made to walk off again.

"Wait, Potter."

Harry turned. _Now what?_ Pansy was giving him a hard, cold stare. "Don't breathe a word about this to anyone."

He sighed. "What is it with you Slytherins and being helped by other people? It is against your moral code or something, to say 'thank you' and act civil?"

Pansy blinked in what seemed like confusion before she smirked at him. "You wouldn't understand even if I told you, half-blood." She turned her back on Harry and stalked off to the Great Hall without another word.

Harry made an irritated noise at the back of his throat before going. He climbed the marble staircase and was almost up in the second floor landing when he saw something amusing.

Draco Malfoy had one leg stuck in the sinking step of the stairs, and he was trying vainly to pull it out. Harry watched him groan with the effort of pulling at his leg, sweat beading on his forehead, his face flushed. He did not even notice Harry watching him from a few steps below. A stream of curses flowed from his mouth, angrily pulling and tugging. Harry's brow quirked up in interest. That's something he hadn't heard of…

"Need a hand?"

Malfoy jumped in surprise, making him sit back on the steps, his face bright pink. Harry laughed. He looked like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar. A look of recognition passed Malfoy's face, and his expression turned murderous. "Beat it, Potter."

"Hello to you, too," Harry greeted with a grin. He took two steps up and pointedly looked at Draco's leg, sunk right up to his knee. "I see you're having a great morning."

"Yes, absolutely spiffing," Malfoy replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Now go away. As you can obviously see, I'm really busy."

Harry couldn't help chuckling. After weeks of not talking, hearing Malfoy's voice—though dripping with sarcasm—was like a pick-me-up for him, and it made him remember the events inside the train. His heart skipped a beat.

"What's so funny?" Malfoy asked waspishly. He took out his wand and pointed it straight at Harry's chest. "If you're thinking of hexing me, Potter, you've got—"

"Relax, Malfoy. Do you honestly think I'd do something as wicked as that?" Harry asked back, raising his green eyes and looked straight at Malfoy. The sunlight drifting in from the high windows made Harry's eyes glow.

Draco lowered his wand halfway down despite himself. He turned his eyes away, breaking the connection. "Go away."

Harry sighed and stooped down; he grabbed Draco's sunken leg with both hands and pulled.

"H-hey!" Draco protested. "What are you doing?"

"What are you, blind? I'm helping you get out," Harry grunted as he pulled. Draco's leg budged an inch. "Come on, we'll pull it out together."

Draco was glad Harry was doubled over, so that he did not see the flush rising in his cheeks. "I can do this by myself, Potter," he snapped, his anger rising. The sudden proximity of their bodies sent odd feelings twisting through Draco's body, and he did not like it one bit. He could also smell Harry's scent this close, see every strand of his messy hair, and it certainly did not help matters any.

Harry was oblivious to Draco's sudden tension. "Yeah, 'course you can," he answered absently, and pulled. "You can also fly without a broomstick and read minds. Now pull your leg out on the count of three." Harry braced himself and wrapped both hands firmly on Draco's calf. "One…two…_three!_"

Draco did not hear him. Not for the first time his eyes slid out of focus again, his mind flashing images of him and Harry together inside the train compartment, and inside the changing rooms. He had deliberately avoided crossing paths with Harry since they arrived at Hogwarts, unsure of what he would do when they did. Draco did not think he could trust himself to hold back from pulling Harry up against a wall and kissing him senseless. It scared him to think what Harry would say, if he found out that Draco was well and truly besotted with him. They were both guys, for Merlin's sake.

_But he didn't seem at all revolted when he was snogging you, was he? In fact, he seemed keen on not stopping._ The thought sent blood rising to his face. For the hundredth time he wondered what would have happened if Pansy and Blaise had not been looking for him, and Harry kept rubbing against him so deliciously, harder and faster and—GAH!

Draco yelped when he felt a hard smack on the back of his head. He glared angrily at Harry. "What the— What was that for, Potter?"

Harry smiled in feigned innocence. "Oh, sorry, Malfoy. I thought you were Petrified or something, the way you weren't moving at all. You had this weird look on your face and—"

Draco could feel the embarrassment flooding through him, and he gritted his teeth as he felt the warmth on his cheeks. Harry grinned. "A Knut for your thoughts, Malfoy?"

"Shut up," he hissed, and grabbed his leg with both hands. "Just help me out of this stupid step so I can be on my way."

Harry shrugged and resumed his previous position. Because Draco was now stooped over his leg, they were shoulder to shoulder now. Harry placed his hands over Draco's. "On the count of three, alright?"

Draco nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Harry's hands were warm, and they were slightly larger than his. His skin was darker than his own, which was ghostly pale. He wondered what it would feel like if he twined his fingers in Harry's.

"One…"

Draco violently shook the wayward thought from his head with closed eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself down, and the scent of vanilla, sunlight, and summer filled his senses. The scent of carefree freedom. Harry's scent.

"Two…"

Draco's hands had slackened its grip, but Harry was holding firm, never letting go. He could feel his heart beating madly against his chest, his ears pounding, and it seemed that every other sound was drowned out except his own breathing and Harry's voice. Draco opened his eyes and turned his eyes slowly to Harry, whose brow wrinkled in concentrated effort, sweat starting to form a slick coat on his skin. The faces of Draco's parents flashed in the back of his mind, and he could see Lucius's cold, angry stare, his mouth forming words that reminded Draco of his inevitable fate as a Malfoy.

"_As the heir to a family borne of power, you must understand—and understand quickly, Draco—that what you want to do, the things you desire most, the people you want to be with, are no longer in your power to pursue."_

Draco looked at Harry's face, and it felt as if he was seeing him from somewhere far away, and not mere centimeters from him. Harry's lips were slightly parted, as if asking Draco for the kiss that would seal their fate.

"THREE!"

Harry pulled hard, and Draco's leg came free with a pop. They both stumbled backwards and Draco fell, his balance lost. Without thinking he grabbed Harry's robes for support, dragging him down.

"Watch it!"

Draco closed his eyes and gritted his teeth to ready himself for the pain that did not come. Slowly he opened his eyes. He could feel Harry's arm around his waist, and for a moment was confused to see everything so blurry. It took a while for him to realize that Harry's glasses was pressed right up against his own eyes, his forehead touching Harry's, and Harry was _right on top of him._

"Get off! Get off!" Draco did not mean to sound so panicky, but right now he didn't care as long as Harry got off him. He tried struggling, only to find his arms pinned down to his sides because of Harry's arm around his waist. Harry's other arm was palm down on the steps.

Harry winced. "Shut up, Malfoy. No need to scream like a girl." He gingerly let Malfoy down on the steps and knelt upright, not realizing that one leg was between Draco's own. He rubbed the arm he had used to hold Malfoy, feeling a bruise. His arm had hit the steps when they fell down, and it was only due to his sharp reflexes that he was able to prop one hand against the marble to avoid further injury. He could feel his knees throb painfully, too. Probably bruised.

Straightening his glasses that were now askew, Harry looked down at Draco. "Are you alright?"

It took a few moments for the question to sink in. Draco nodded. Harry sighed again. "Geez, Malfoy, why'd you have to pull me down?"

The remark made Draco's anger bubble. "I wasn't trying to kill you, if that's what you're thinking. I was trying to pull myself upright."

"Right," Harry answered, hardly sounding convinced. He looked down on Malfoy with an inscrutable expression. "Well…I'll be going then." He started to stand up.

Draco's hands moved of their own accord. They shot up and grabbed handfuls of Harry's robes, making him stop. Draco gritted his teeth; he could feel his hands shake slightly, but he did not let go.

"…_the people you want to be with are no longer in your power to pursue."_

Harry stared down at Draco, his expression softening. "What is it?"

Draco's hands pulled him down a few inches more. Hiss face was lowered, but Harry could see his lip tremble slightly. He waited.

"Potter…what happened in the train…" Draco's voice faltered, and he bit his lower lip. Harry allowed himself to be pulled down, until he was leaning over Draco, his hands pushing against the marble steps for support.

He smiled softly. "Yeah, what about that?" he asked in a gentle tone.

Draco let out a shaky breath and looked up. Harry saw his gray eyes swirling, saw the inner turmoil in his heart. But Harry needed to hear Draco say the words. He gave him an encouraging look.

"It really happened, didn't it?"

For a moment Harry's face held a blank expression, but it was quickly replaced by a smile and he leaned closer. "Let me jog your memory."

Draco closed his eyes and let Harry kiss him. It was slow and soft at first, as if Harry tentatively asked Draco's permission. Draco parted his lips in answer, and Harry sighed against him, lowering his body even further, careful not to let his weight crush Draco against the cold steps.

Draco's hands linked themselves over Harry's neck, pulling him even closer, and he moaned as Harry's tongue darted out and tasted him again. He responded with equal fervency, their bodies humming with the pleasure of contact and remembrance, their memory connecting with the present, and to Draco it felt like he had come home to the place where he knew he belonged, where his being a pureblood wizard and his Malfoy name mattered not, and what he and Harry shared meant everything.

Draco could feel Harry's fingers tangled in his hair, and he gave a sharp gasp as Harry tugged. Harry took the opportunity to break from the kiss and began attacking Draco's neck with ferocity, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake.

Draco's eyes fluttered open as he tried to form the words one by one amidst the hazy pleasure. "Potter…late…classes…"

"In a moment." Harry was already down to Draco's collarbone, kissing at Draco's sensitive spot, making the Slytherin gasp again.

With supreme effort of will Draco pushed Harry off of him and forced him to look him in the eye. "No. Not here." His tone was soft, his eyes a silent pleading look, still glazed over with heated passion.

Harry gave in. He sat up and pulled Draco with him. "Meet me at midnight outside the entrance to the Slytherin common room."

Draco hoisted his bag up and flicked his wand over himself. His robe straightened by itself, his hair combed back in place. He arched an eyebrow at Harry. "You know where the entrance to our common room is?"

For the first time Draco saw Harry's face flush, and for a moment he looked rather fetching. "Er…came upon it accidentally during second year."

Draco felt—more than knew—that Harry wasn't telling him something, but he let it go. "Alright. Wear your Cloak though."

Harry grinned impishly. "I always do, Malfoy."

"Always? Do you make it a habit to roam the school at night, Potter?"

Harry shrugged. He took a step up. "I'm going to the Hospital Wing to get something for a hangover."

"I didn't know you could drink."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Malfoy. Just meet me tonight." He raised an eyebrow and smiled suggestively. "I want to continue our…discussion." He turned and walked away, chuckling.

Draco's cheeks were aflame as he glared at Harry's retreating back. Once he was out of sight, Draco sat back down on the steps, his knees too weak to support him. He bit his lip. _Damn it, I couldn't hold back. I couldn't hold back. I couldn't…_

It wasn't fair, Draco thought bitterly. He had every reason to reject Harry, to push him away, and not one good reason why he ought to do what he just did: let Harry kiss him _again._ Or him kiss Harry back. It wasn't fair that he could not keep his wits about him enough to act a proper Malfoy and not a horny seventeen year-old.

It was not fair that he could not have the one person he wanted more than anything.

As Harry's footsteps faded, the familiar feeling of anxiety and unease settled over Draco again, the images of his parents in his mind, and Lucius's voice echoing.

"…_no longer in your power to pursue."_

Draco bit back a sob and curled in on himself, cradling his knees against his chest.

"Is it wrong for me to want to touch you?" he asked no one in a barely heard whisper.

o 0 o

End of Chapter 4 (part 1 of 2)

Additional Notes: I have deemed it wiser to split this chapter in two, since during the process of writing it I realized that I have made it more than twenty pages long; quite a feat, since I have never written anything so long. But please do not think I am cold-hearted, to leave this chapter without any closure; I posted the second part at the same time as this one. Think of it as an apology for making you wait a long time for this chapter to be uploaded. Cheers.


	5. Hesitation to Cowardice part 2

Chapter 4: **Hesitation to Cowardice**, in which a befuddled Harry tries to pry the truth from a confused and frightened Draco with the help of a bowl of lemon wedges, salt, and a bottle of tequila. (part 2 of 2)

_Author's Notes: Aside from the normal disclaimers (all HP names and related indicia are JK Rowling), I give you a most stern warning. This chapter contains LEMON scenes the likes of which has never been written in the previous chapters. I would also like to remind you that this is my first try at dabbling in lemon scenes of this degree. So, if you do not like slash, please hit the back button, and your sanity will be spared. Otherwise, my dear readers, please do continue, and review afterwards._

"Where are we going?"

Harry grinned at Draco from under the Cloak and tightened his hold on Draco's hand. "Someplace we won't be disturbed." His voice was soft, but because they were so close together Draco had no trouble hearing.

Draco was not convinced. "Don't tell me we're going into one of the classrooms, Potter."

Harry laughed. "Is that a suggestion, Malfoy?"

Draco growled under his throat. "Potter…"

They were both under the Invisibility Cloak, walking swiftly through the darkened halls and corridors of the school, the light of the pale moon casting shadows across the silent walls. It was already half past midnight; Draco had a spot of trouble convincing Crabbe and Goyle to leave him alone in the common room so he could leave, and an even more difficult time convincing Pansy Parkinson he would not die the moment she left him. She had been the last to leave, although her face told Draco she would rather stay. But she left all the same.

When he was sure the common room was empty and everyone in bed, Draco had slipped out the common room and into the darkened corridors, only to be pulled quite suddenly by a slightly peeved Harry under an Invisibility Cloak.

"You're late," he accused, frowning.

"And you're going to take points off me for it?" Draco had retorted placidly, pointedly ignoring Harry's fingers still wound around his wrist.

Harry had not replied; instead he grabbed Draco's hand and dragged him away, leading him out of the dungeons and up the marble staircase, until they reached the third floor corridors.

"We're here," Harry said suddenly and stopped. Draco almost collided with his back. He looked around.

"We're in the middle of a corridor, Potter," he deadpanned.

Harry took out an old piece of folded parchment from the pocket of his robes and seemed to be reading something from it. After a while he pocketed it again and turned to Draco. "Just trust me, alright?"

Draco blinked at him. Trust you? Before he could answer Harry lifted the cloak off of them and folded it in his arms. Draco's eyes widened in alarm.

"Potter! What if someone sees—"

"Don't worry, Filch and his cat are miles away from here. There are no ghosts nearby, too. Or professors, or prefects," Harry confidently assured him. Draco watched as he stuffed the cloak inside the bag he had slung over his shoulder, then walked to and fro, across the corridor, his eyes closed.

Draco frowned. What in Merlin's name—? But then one wall of the corridor was melting, changing, until a wooden door with a brass knob appeared. "What…"

Harry grinned and tugged on Malfoy's hand. "Come on. Inside."

They went through together, and Draco saw, to his surprise, a wide and comfortable room, one large stone fireplace to their right, a fire crackling in the hearth. The floor was richly carpeted in deep reds and gold, the furniture accentuating comfort rather than style. It was homier than anything else, not like the Slytherin common room, or Malfoy Manor. "Where are we?"

"The Room of Requirement," Harry answered, dumping down the bag on the floor and squatting down in front of the fire. "Come on."

Draco could feel his cheeks flush. "Now?"

"What do you mean now?" Harry looked nonplussed.

"Uhh..." Draco could feel his face heat up, embarrassed at the way his mind was directed to…well. Clearing his head with a shake he plopped down on the floor in front of Harry, a small distance separating them. "So what is it?"

Harry took out two shot glasses from the bag and a tall bottle of clear liquid, along with a salt shaker. With a flick of his wand a bowl of lemon wedges appeared. "I couldn't put those in the bag, so I had to magic them up here."

"Potter," Draco began, as understanding dawned on him. "You're going to teach me to drink?"

Harry saw the amusement in Draco's eyes. "Oh, this isn't just any sort of drink, like Firewhiskey. This is tequila." He twisted off the cap and poured a small amount into the tiny glasses. "Packs a lot more punch."

Draco took one glass and studied it. "It looks like water to me."

"It's tequila," Harry continued. "It's a Muggle drink, but—"

"I'm not drinking it."

Harry stopped mid-rant and stared at Draco.

Draco pushed the glass back to Harry. "I'm not drinking anything made by Muggles, Potter."

Harry felt a surge of annoyance, but quickly stamped it down. Casually, he shrugged his shoulders. "That's too bad, Malfoy. But I understand if you're too scared to try it." He put down the bottle and glanced at Malfoy.

Draco's face stiffened, his brow lowering dangerously. "I'm not scared to try it," he snapped.

"Really?" Harry kept his face smooth as he saw a nerve twitch in Malfoy's temple. Finally—

"Fine. I'll drink it."

Harry gave himself a mental pat on the back. "Right. Watch me first." He took the salt shaker and shook salt over the back of his left hand, near the web of skin between thumb and index finger. Holding it near his lips, Harry licked at the salt slowly, his tongue sliding out of his mouth, before he took a lemon wedge, sucked on it, and downed the tequila in one swallow.

Draco stared in rapt fascination. The moment Harry's tongue shot out of his mouth all coherent thought fled from his mind, and he was only interested in what Harry was doing. Harry coughed a little as he put down the glass with a soft chink. "Woah. I almost forgot how strong this stuff is." He pushed the other shot glass in front of Draco. "Your turn."

Harry saw Malfoy's eyes dart towards the glass and frown. "Why are we doing this again?"

Harry smiled. "We're playing against each other in two weeks, Malfoy. I thought we should celebrate."

"Celebrate?" Malfoy repeated dubiously. "We've been playing Quidditch for years, Potter. Why start this now?"

"Well," he began, and looked at the fire, avoiding Malfoy's gaze. "This is the first game we'll play without really feeling any sort of…hatred towards each other. Right?" He left the question hanging in the air, waiting for the Slytherin to speak. He had to know. He had to hear Draco's answer.

There were a few moments of silence. Harry could only hear the crackling flames. He wondered if Malfoy would just walk away.

"Without hatred, huh? I guess."

The room suddenly felt warmer to Harry, and he tore his gaze from the fire, to look at Malfoy instead. The Slytherin had a smile on his face, his gray eyes twinkling. "I'm going to need your hand, Potter."

"Huh?"

"Your hand." Draco's smile turned into a smug grin. "What you've been using to hold your wand and your quill all these years?"

Harry dumbly raised his right hand towards Malfoy, still unsure what he was up to. The Slytherin tugged it closer, and without further ado, sprinkled salt on Harry's wrist.

"Er, Malfoy, you're supposed to…" Harry's voice trailed off as Malfoy lowered his head and let his tongue glide across Harry's wrist in slow licks, leaving a thin trail of saliva. Harry's mind immediately shut down, his mouth hanging open as he stared at Malfoy licking at the salt, his tongue hot against Harry's skin, before he took a lemon wedge from the bowl, sucked it, and gulped down the liquor.

"Hmm. Interesting taste," Malfoy drawled, smiling all too innocently at Harry. He poured out the tequila, this time filling the glasses to the brim. "I guess it's your turn, Potter?"

Harry shook himself to the present. _Oh, you're going to pay for that, Malfoy._ Wordlessly he shook salt onto Draco's hand, licked at it, sucked on a lemon wedge, and drank half the glass of tequila. Draco proceeded to do the same, but this time to Harry's forearm.

They continued on like this, each of them salting and licking a spot on the other's arm, sending tingles of electricity that made them shudder. The air was steadily growing warmer, Harry thought dizzily as Draco licked a pattern of lazy circles on his palm, and he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning. He vaguely wondered if he should tell Draco that Muggles called what they were doing "body shots", but discarded the idea quickly. It didn't matter, not when Draco seemed to be as intent as he was in keeping up with this game, trying to see which of them was going to back down first. _Like hell I'm going to loose._

As Harry downed his tenth glass—or was it his fourteenth?—he could already feel his skin go warm, his head spinning lightly. And from the way Draco's face was flushed pink, he was feeling exactly what he did.

"You know, this tequila thing isn't so bad," Draco hiccupped and gulped down the hard drink before setting down the glass. He grinned at Harry. "I could get used to it." He sprinkled salt on his own hand, licked at it, and sucked on a lemon wedge before grabbing the bottle and drinking from it.

"Hey, Malfoy, you're going to get drunk more quickly if you do that," Harry warned, trying to pry the bottle off of Malfoy's hand, but Malfoy slapped his fingers away.

"I think I can handle a little bit of alcohol, Potter," Malfoy answered in a slightly peeved manner, setting down the bottle and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Here, your turn."

Thud.

Harry laughed, rolling on his stomach, when Malfoy promptly keeled over, lying flat on his back. The Slytherin hiccupped loudly. "I'm not drunk yet," he said loudly.

"Yeah, sure you're not," Harry wiped the tears from his eyes. He stood up and looked down over Malfoy, whose eyes had a hard time focusing on Harry's face. "I think we should stop."

Draco held up one finger. "One more shot, Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine. But I go first." He sat down on top of Draco's stomach, straddling his hips. The Slytherin did not seem to notice. Harry tilted Malfoy's head up and sideways, exposing his neck, and sprinkled the salt there.

"Wha—? Oi, Potter what're—"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry whispered against his skin, and licked at the salt. Harry could feel Draco stiffen underneath him. He languidly let his tongue slide up and down Draco's neck, tasting him. He heard Draco moan. He pulled back, grabbed a lemon wedge, sucked on it, and grabbed the bottle, gulping the tequila down. It was almost empty. He looked at Malfoy with a smirk. "Your turn."

"Alright." Harry gave a surprised yelp when Malfoy pulled him down until his face was inches from his, smelling the alcohol in Malfoy's breath. "But before that…" he captured Harry's lips in a kiss, his tongue teasing Harry's lip open. Harry readily complied, allowing him access. Harry couldn't help sighing in content. He could taste the alcohol on Malfoy's tongue.

As the kiss steadily grew more passionate, Malfoy's fingers tugged insistently at Harry's robes. He shrugged them off and proceeded to pull at Malfoy's. Without breaking the kiss, Harry managed to peel Draco's robes off, leaving only their button-up shirts. Without warning, Draco tackled Harry so that now their positions were reversed. Harry dazedly stared up at Draco's face as he cleared his head. "What the hell, Malfoy?"

"Relax, Potter." Draco tore off the top three buttons on Harry's shirt, exposing his chest. "I'm just taking my turn, that's all." He sprinkled salt generously on Harry's chest, lowered his head, and began to lick.

"Oh god…" Harry's eyes rolled to the top of his head, reveling at the sensation. His skin was suddenly aflame, Draco's tongue searing against his chest, and it sent jolts of pleasure down Harry's spine. His hand tangled itself into Draco's hair, the other traveling towards Draco's thigh. "Malfoy…"

Draco smiled against Harry's skin. He imitated the way Harry had devoured his ice cream: licking and sucking his way across Harry's chest, slowly trailing a path down.

Harry could not think straight; all he could feel was Draco's tongue, Draco's breath hot against his skin. He arched upwards, yearning for more. He wanted more.

He felt Draco's warmth leave his chest, and Harry's eyes fluttered open. Draco was looking smugly at him. "Do you like being teased, Potter?"

"Cut the crap, Malfoy," Harry heard himself growl, unfulfilled want making him frustrated.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I don't think that's fair. You were always teasing me, back in the train." He lowered his lips to Harry's ear. "Remember?" His tongue traced Harry's earlobe and bit it softly, tugging.

Harry grunted with the effort of biting back another moan. "I…was…not teasing…"

Draco smiled. "Liar." He placed soft kisses down Harry's throat, following his jaw line, before ghosting over Harry's lips. "You know, Potter, I—oomph!"

Harry took the opportunity to flip Draco over and kiss him thoroughly, his tongue plunging into Draco's mouth while grinding his hips against him. The Slytherin bucked instinctively, panting against Harry, letting him take control. Harry wasted no time in pulling up Draco's arms over his head and pinning them to the floor with one hand while the other started popping the buttons on Draco's shirt.

They broke off the kiss to gulp for air, Draco panting heavily, Harry kissing down his neck, his throat, his collarbone, down to his chest. He licked and kissed, biting softly, keeping Draco occupied while his free hand began to undo Draco's pants.

Draco writhed in pleasure, moaning, but now he wanted something else. Something more than just kissing. He burned with the need to have Harry, and he wanted him _now._ "Potter," he gasped, his voice urgent and pleading.

Harry understood. He looked up at Draco, his green eyes glowing with want. Draco nodded, whimpering. Harry positioned himself lower, between Draco's legs, leaned down, and began to lick.

"Ah!" Draco' back arched upwards on contact, crying out in pleasure. He felt feverish now, and lightheaded, and Draco was sure it wasn't because of the tequila. The now-familiar pool of warmth was slowly building up in the pit of his stomach as Harry continued his ministrations, making all coherent thought vanish except for one: Draco would _never_ complain about Harry's quirky way of eating ice cream.

After a few moments—Draco wasn't sure—Harry pulled back and straightened. His emerald eyes smoldering, he raised the index and middle finger of one hand to Draco's lips. Draco nodded wordlessly, understanding. He took Harry's hand in both of his and began to lick at Harry's two fingers, first up one side and then the other. Harry gave him an impish grin before lowering his head back, imitating what Draco was doing to his fingers.

Each lick, each flicker of Draco's tongue was copied by Harry, and each time he did Draco's grip on Harry tightened convulsively, panting and moaning. Before long Harry's fingers were already wet with Draco's saliva. Growing bolder, Draco took the entire length of Harry's fingers into his mouth and sucked.

Mind-blowing pleasure made Draco scream out Harry's name, his back arching upwards so much he thought it would break. Draco's toes curled into the carpet, his fingernails digging into Harry's skin as Harry sucked, slowly at first, then faster and more fiercely. "So good…oh god, Potter…"

He could feel himself nearing the brink, the warmth in the pit of his stomach growing in intensity until Draco felt he was almost to the point of bursting. The room was so hot he could hardly breathe; he could not see straight, his breathing jagged. "Potter," he panted. "I…I can't—I can't—"

Harry looked up at him and pulled away his hand that Draco was holding. "It's too early yet, Malfoy." He crawled up on his knees and lowered his head to Draco's for a kiss. Draco did not hesitate to open his mouth, letting Harry devour him hungrily, not noticing that one of Harry's hands was pulling down his pants even lower, while the other one—wet from Draco's earlier licking—traveled slowly downwards.

Draco broke the kiss with a sharp intake of breath at the unexpected intrusion. Harry stopped immediately, concern in his eyes. Their breaths, hot and ragged, mingled between them, the scent of alcohol and want swirling in their midst.

"Keep going," Draco managed to say between breaths, looking up at Harry, giving him an assuring look. Harry waited for a few moments before nodding, and then he kissed Draco, more deeply and passionately than the first they shared.

Draco lost himself in the pleasure of having Harry's tongue slide against his own, of having Harry's warmth and taste in his mouth, while willing himself to relax as Harry's fingers slid even deeper inside of him. It was uncomfortable at first, but before long the sensation was more than tolerable, and when Harry began to slide his fingers in and out in a slow, deliberate pace, his panting had become—if possible—even more ragged, his moans of ecstasy even louder.

As Harry slid a third finger to join the first two, Draco bucked, his breath hitching as his nails dug into Harry's bare shoulders, but Harry did not stop. His tongue slid out of Draco's mouth and trailed more kisses down his neck, sometimes even sliding against the sensitive skin of Draco's ear, making the Slytherin writhe even more under him. Draco did not think he could last a minute more.

Harry slid his fingers in and out in a quickening pace, and Draco bucked upwards, his hips meeting Harry's, and the intimate contact between them made Harry shiver. His eyes were not really seeing anything, now; all his senses were focused on Draco underneath him, moaning out his name and rubbing against him in ways that shattered all of Harry's coherent thoughts and drowned him in pleasure, such heavenly pleasure. A vague thought darted across his mind that Draco was not even aware that the way his hips rubbed against Harry's was making Harry harder by the minute, crumbling the little self-control the Gryffindor had.

That self-control vanished when Draco gave a particularly loud cry, back arching sensuously, and the contact made Harry's eyes see red. With a low growl he flipped Draco on his stomach and hissed instructions against Draco's ears.

Even drunk with pleasure as he was, Draco obeyed. He braced himself on his forearms, bent on his knees with Harry looming over him. Before he could think of asking why, Harry placed both his hands on Draco's waist and entered him in one sharp thrust.

The sudden pain made Draco cry out, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. One of Harry's hands found their way on Draco's arm, a tentative touch. Draco grabbed it with one hand and gave a squeeze.

Harry's hand squeezed back before going back to his waist. "Are you ready?" Harry's voice sounded hoarse, but heavy with lust, the need to have Draco, the same need that burned inside the Slytherin.

Draco nodded. He was ready for this, and whatever happened next. "Yes," he said in an almost-whisper, bracing himself.

Harry slowly pulled away before thrusting in again, this time more slowly, to give Draco time to adjust. Draco forced himself to relax, which was easier than he had expected. Warmth flushed his body as he felt Harry go deep into his body, stretching him, wracking him in waves of mingled pain and pleasure…and go deeper still. He hissed as Harry pulled back and thrust in again.

Their bodies rocked back and forth, and as they built a steady rhythm, Draco could feel the pain melt away, to be replaced by a feeling of fullness, a new level of pleasure that he had not experienced before. He could hear Harry panting with him, whispering his name in a fervent mantra as the thrusts came, and Draco found himself doing the same, throwing back his head and mewling in pleasure, their bodies becoming slick with sweat, panting with the effort, but neither of them wanted it to stop.

As Harry gave a hard thrust, Draco cried out, the pleasure overwhelming him. That was…that was… "More," he could hear himself whimper. "That was—ah—harder, Potter—harder—ngh—"

Harry grunted something unintelligible, shifted his hold on Draco, and thrust harder, quicker, and the warmth pooling in Draco's belly swelled until it reached his toes, up his chest, to the very tips of his fingers, knowing he was nearing the edge. His vision blurred until all he could see was white, and all he could feel was pleasure, pleasure beyond knowing, a searing hotness that burned his soul.

"Malfoy…I don't think I can—uh—hold for much…longer…"

They both came calling each other's names and collapsed in a gasping, sweating heap, their minds too numbed with sensations to make heads or tails of anything until moments later. Harry rolled off of Draco with a moan, stretching himself out on the warm carpet beside him.

Draco rolled on his side and glanced at Harry. He had his eyes closed, his lips partly open. The tequila bottle lay discarded nearby, beside a heap of their clothes. Draco studied Harry. His skin glistened with sweat, every muscle bare and glowing in the light of the fire. Harry opened his eyes, caught sight of Draco staring at him, and smiled.

"One more go?"

Draco slapped Harry's arm hard. "Pervert," he growled under his breath, despite the rush of warmth that tingled his skin.

Harry chuckled. The sound was like music to Draco's ears, although he would never admit it. "Hey, I didn't hear you complaining a while back." A playful glint reached his eyes. "And I wasn't the one who wanted to go harder—oww!"

Draco had sat up and smacked Harry's head, glaring at him, although not as hard and as angrily as he normally did. Harry smirked victoriously, and Draco flushed, realizing they were both naked, and he could see _everything_. He quickly pulled himself up and picked up his clothes, turning his back on Harry.

"It's late, I'd better get back," he said, putting on his clothes. "You should too, Potter."

He could hear shuffling sounds behind him, and thought Harry was dressing up, too, until he felt warm breath on his neck that sent shivers down his spine. "Do you want to leave that badly?"

Harry's hands traveled down Draco's stomach. It took all of Draco's willpower to keep his knees from giving way. _Hold yourself together! You're a _Malfoy! "Unlike you, Potter, I'm a Prefect, and without an Invisibility Cloak to boot. If Filch or his filthy cat catches me, I'd be sent packing and out of Hogwarts before I can blink."

For a moment Draco was certain Harry would insist that they stay longer—his cheeks flushed at the thought—but Harry only sighed and stepped back. "You're right. We should leave." He sounded genuinely disappointed.

Draco stared at the fire and bit his lip. Merlin knows he wanted nothing more than to stay, but his logic—not to mention his sense of self preservation—told him he should not have come here in the first place. _But I want him…good God, I _love_ him—_

_But does he even love you back? Is he interested in more than just your body?_

Draco shuddered. He had seen the lust in Harry's eyes, the hunger. He knew Harry had seen it in his eyes, too, but it was accompanied by something far nobler and deeper than physical attraction. But did Harry feel the same way as he did? _I could just ask him—that won't be too hard, right?_ He turned to glance at Harry, who was already halfway into his shirt. His skin felt cold, and his heart beat wildly against his chest. The idea of confessing to Harry was suddenly not a very good plan; it was as if he had decided to stick his hand inside a hornet's nest and crush the hornets inside with his bare hands. Draco quickly returned his attention to putting his clothes back on, his mood darkening. He did not need to think hard of a reason why he was not happy with the prospect of telling Harry how he felt. A pang of bitterness washed over him. He did not like the idea of rejection. Even though what he had offered Harry years ago was merely alliance—or at least something akin to friendship—the memory of Harry declining his outstretched hand, coolly rejecting what he offered, still stung like an old wound.

And what he was offering was not friendship, but something that outweighed it ten times more. A hundred times more. Draco frowned into the fire and paused in the act of putting on his robes. Could he survive if Harry scoffed at him, for telling him that he loved him? Would he even believe, knowing that his father was a Death Eater who would not be more pleased to kill Harry when he gets the chance? When his mother was a Death Eater, too? That he would probably be one, himself?

_No, not me,_ Draco corrected himself. _Not after this; I would never do anything to harm Harry. Maybe not even if I don't feel this way. I have never dreamed of serving You-Know-Who, no matter what Father says._

"Having second thoughts about leaving, Malfoy?"

Draco stirred at Harry's voice and shrugged into his robes, cleaning himself with a flick of his wand. "I was thinking, Potter," he said in a drawl, hoping it hid the emotions from his voice. "An activity you don't have the leisure to do, I understand, but I think often. It saved me from trouble before, and I suggest you start practicing it, too."

Harry laughed. "If you were such a genius, Malfoy, you would have managed to win at least one game of Quidditch against me." He grinned playfully at him, the fire from the hearth washing his green eyes in gold relief.

Draco could not help but roll his eyes. "Luck, Potter. You were always lucky, and with a Firebolt between your legs, even a skilled flyer like me couldn't catch up with you." He dusted his robes casually off dust. Harry chuckled as he placed the shot glasses and the bottle of tequila back into his bag, as well as the salt shaker. The bowl of lemon wedges, now filled only with the peel, vanished with a wave of Harry's wand.

As Harry stood up, hefting the bag up his shoulder, he raised an eyebrow at Draco. "I'd rather have you than a Firebolt between my legs," he said wryly, then laughed aloud at the look on Draco's face. "You know, Malfoy, it is fun to see you gape and open your mouth like a floundered fish out of water, but we really should get going if I have to drop you off and make it to Gryffindor Tower to get some sleep."

Draco glared sullenly at Harry. "Can't you keep your mind out of the gutter, Potter? We only did it once, and—wait, what do you mean drop me off?"

"I have the Invisibility Cloak. You don't."

Draco cursed himself for asking a stupid question—_obviously, you'd need to be invisible to get back safely to the common room, idiot—_but he did not want to back down without a fight. "I can get back to the dungeons without tripping on my own feet, Potter. Or get caught by Filch, either." Harry gave him a disbelieving look. "Oh, Alright." The thought of sharing the cloak with Harry, both of them keeping so close together, made Draco's cheeks flame. "Just keep your hands to yourself."

Harry feigned a look of pure innocence that did not go past Draco. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Malfoy."

Draco made a rude gesture with his hand before standing beside Harry, the Invisibility Cloak settling over them, the hem reaching the floor. Draco shot a dark look at Harry before they set off into the night, careful not to make any sounds in case Filch or his cat was nearby.

When they arrived in the dungeons, in front of what seemed to be another part of the rough stone walls, they stopped. Harry looked around twice before pulling the cloak off of them and turned to Draco. "We're here."

Draco looked up at Harry, and the words he meant to say died in his throat. Harry was looking strangely at him, his eyes like smoldering emerald flames, his face wiped smooth of any expression. For the first time Draco did not know what to say. _What _do_ you say to someone you just had sex with?_

Draco cleared his throat. It wouldn't do for him to be remembering _that_. "I…I think you should go now." He had not realized he had backed a step. "It's late."

Harry gave a soft smile. "Yeah. Too late," he said in a soft voice. Draco had to strain to hear him, and wondered what he meant.

"What are you talking about, Potter?"

Harry's eyes flickered to Draco's, and for a moment the Slytherin thought he saw pain and fear cross them, before Harry blinked and it was gone. Harry shrugged and shifted his eyes to the blank wall. "I hope your passwords don't change as much as ours do."

Draco somehow knew that Harry was just on the verge of telling him something—something important—but he did not want to press. "No. The password today is 'heartsbane'. It only changes once a month."

Harry looked surprised. "And you told me that because…?"

Draco snorted. "Even if I told you the password, Potter, that doesn't mean you can waltz in there without being jinxed."

Harry gave him a mysterious smile. "Oh, I'm not too sure about that," he said loftily. "You might find me hovering over your bed one of these days, Malfoy." He gave a dark laugh that wasn't entirely convincing.

"Yeah, right." He turned his back on Harry and faced the wall. "Heartsbane."

The wall took its sweet time opening, in Draco's opinion. He could feel Harry's gaze on his back, and it made his skin prickle. "Shouldn't you be going, Potter?"

A hand grabbed his arm and whirled him around so fast Draco did not even have time to yelp. Harry's lips were on him by the time his eyes focused, and he was kissing him back, moaning before he could stop himself. He leaned into the kiss willingly, but before he could twine his fingers behind Harry's neck Harry had stepped back and smiled at him.

"Good night, Malfoy."

Draco could feel his lips still throbbing from the kiss, his skin hotter than it was moments before, but he still managed to glare. "I hate it when you do that."

Harry chuckled and put on the Invisibility Cloak. "I'll send you a note," came his voice somewhere to Draco's right. "See you at breakfast." He heard footsteps steadily fading away, then silence.

Draco wanted to yell at Harry's retreating back, to tell him what an arrogant prat he was, but at the last moment he only sighed, a smile twitching into his face. It was odd, Draco thought, but seeing Harry like this wasn't really so bad. _He's not a Malfoy, but he's not half bad at acting like one._

"Mooning over Potter, Draco?"

Draco turned around so fast he felt dizzy again. When he saw who had spoken, his insides turned to ice. The floor seemed to fall underneath him, his stomach falling with it.

Standing just beyond the opening between the stone walls was Pansy Parkinson.

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_End of Chapter 4. I apologize for the—what do writers call it?—um, "cliffie". And also for the long wait; I know most of you had requested that I post soon, but as I said, this chapter proved to be challenging for me. Thank you to __**Byaghro**__ (I hope I spelled your name right) for giving me a boost on this chapter; I hope you enjoy reading, my friend. You helped me write it. To everyone who gave reviews, "sqweed" in delight, fanned themselves from the "heat", laughed aloud, and loved my story, I cannot thank you enough. I must say, I enjoyed reading your reviews, as well as answering them all._

_Watch out for Chapter 5: __**Hesitation to Courage**__, in which two people realize that courage does not mean the absence of fear, but rather, the acceptance of it, and believing that it can be conquered._

_Cheers. And please do not forget to review! I know I already told you this at the start of part 2, but it does not hurt to remind, yes?_


	6. Cowardice to Courage part 1

Chapter 5: **Cowardice to Courage**, in which two people realize that courage does not mean the absence of fear, but rather, the acceptance of it, and believing that it can be conquered. (part 1 of 2)

_Author's Notes: The last chapter…I hope you all enjoy reading; this one is dedicated to all slash readers and writers. As always, all HP names and related indicia are copyright to JK Rowling. Much to my regret, only the plot and writing style is mine. I must also warn you that this story contains SLASH (more precisely, of the HPDM kind). If you are not comfortable with stories that contain male/male relationships, please hit the back button. Otherwise, read on, and please write a review afterwards._

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"_And with you heaven is still close enough to touch;_

'_Cause your love is still the only thing that matters in this world,_

_The only thing I can believe…"_

—_From the song, "Hard to Believe" by the Eraserheads_

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Pansy Parkinson considered her self a practical person. She knew life was harder than the other students in Hogwarts thought—her family was not rich, and even though they were pure-blood, people like Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic made it quite clear that being pure-blood did not make one superior over Muggles, Mudbloods, and half-bloods, which was a load of nonsense to her. Pansy knew that only two things mattered in the world: money and power, and that she would have them, no matter the cost. Her mother had been a fool to let herself marry "for love". Pansy swore she would never end up like her mother.

The moment she met Draco Malfoy, she knew what she had to do. She would have Draco, and she did not intend to share him. Crabbe and Goyle were not really his friends; she had seen that quickly enough. They were too dumb and thick-headed to even be considered 'friends' by anyone. Most of the people who made up Draco's circle were all pure bloods. They were rich, they had class, and they all had some connection with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Power and money, all rolled into one blonde, handsome guy. Perfect.

Since the first day of their schooling at Hogwarts Pansy had meticulously started building the bonds of friendship with Draco and jealously guarded him from other girls who dared smile prettily at him. When Harry Potter appeared, the Gryffindor only provided Pansy another way to tie Draco more firmly to her: if Draco hated Potter and Pansy hated Potter too, that would be another common ground for them.

After six years, Pansy was confident enough of her ties with Draco that she never thought anyone would be stupid enough to come between them. She and Draco were engaged all but in name, and even though Draco never really called her his girlfriend, well, he never told Pansy to stop acting like she was, either.

But Pansy began feeling something was amiss since the start of this year. Draco seemed out of himself lately, staring at nothing, and when Pansy sidled over to him, he would only shrug her off. And he kept eyeing the Gryffindor table during dinner. At first, Pansy thought he had been through another fight with Potter when she had not been around, but the more Draco acted strangely, the more she suspected it was something more than that.

Draco began to scan the corridors with a wary eye every time they left the Slytherin dungeons, and he became especially tense during double Potions class with the Gryffindors. He had begun neglecting his Prefect duties, too. Pansy remembered he had become quite reluctant to watch the Quidditch game between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff a few days ago. And he wanted to be _alone_. Something that he did not do; Draco always made sure Crabbe and Goyle were somewhere nearby, near enough to follow his every beck and call. With Pansy beside him, of course. But now he wanted to be left by himself; 'to think' was what he told them before glaring and stomping away.

Tonight had been stranger than usual. Pansy found Draco after class already sitting on a chair by the fireplace in the common room, staring at the emerald green flames, deep in thought. Sometimes he would run a finger over his lower lip and his cheeks would flush pink, before shaking his head and growling something under his breath with a scowl. And then he would go back to looking at the fire.

Pansy kept a careful eye on Draco throughout dinner. He had his head down, barely touching his food, and when they trudged back to the dungeons Draco did not even speak one word to her. Everyone seemed to catch on Draco's mood and left him alone. Pansy stayed in the common room with Draco, pretending to read her Potions book while Draco sat back in his chair, taking out rolls of parchment and his ink and quill and started on one of their numerous assignments.

The night turned late, but Draco did not stir from his seat. When Crabbe cracked a yawn on a sofa nearby, Draco finally lifted his head and quirked an eyebrow at him. "You guys better sleep before you fall on the floor and drool all over the place."

Goyle blinked sleepily at Draco, who was by now surrounded by opened books and a few crumpled rolls of paper. "Uh, how about you?"

"I'm almost finished. I'll be going to bed soon." Crabbe and Goyle only stared at him stupidly for a few moments. Then Crabbe spoke up.

"Are you sure?"

Draco looked up from his work with a scowl that could have flayed a horse. "Of course I'm sure," he snapped. "Go on. I'll be following later."

Pansy watched as both Crabbe and Goyle seemed to have some difficulty processing Draco's words before they shrugged and staggered down to the dormitories. Pansy had smirked inwardly, thinking she had some time alone with Draco, when said Slytherin called her by name. Pansy looked up as innocently as she could from her book and smiled at him.

"Yes, Draco?"

Draco frowned only slightly at her, as if he found something irritating. "You should go to bed, too. You don't need to stay up late."

Pansy pouted at him. "But I want to stay here with you, Draco."

Draco opened his mouth, scowling, before he closed his mouth and shook his head. This time he looked like someone trying to be patient. "Pansy, I'm almost finished. I just need to add a few more lines to this essay and I'll be going to bed, too."

Pansy stood up and dropped her book on the floor carelessly, sauntering over to Draco and twined her hands around his neck. She gave him her best, pleading look. "But we always go to bed together!" she whined.

Draco had frowned at her words and the hidden innuendo. "Pansy, you won't die if I don't escort you to your room. And I certainly won't die if you're not here guarding me. I am not so weak as that," he added dryly, and firmly pried her fingers off of him. He gave her a flat look. "Go to bed."

Pansy was not one to disobey a direct order from Draco, but she knew she had no choice. For now, she had to obey. After giving him a peck on the cheek(she noticed he had stiffened at the gesture, his face carefully showing nothing), she took the path to the girl's dormitories until she knew she was hidden from sight, turned around, and carefully hid herself in the shadows to watch what Draco would do.

It was a full fifteen minutes before Draco stretched and stood up from his chair, muttering under his breath. Pansy watched curiously as he looked around, dropped his quill and parchment on the floor with his books, and went out the common room.

Pansy was not overly surprised when Draco sneaked out of the common room. Every student at Hogwarts sneaked out at night at least once in their lives. But she was curious to see that Draco sneaked off without Crabbe, Goyle, and her. Draco _never_ went anywhere without them.

After counting twenty she went over to the entrance and waited for it to slide open before walking out. Draco was already gone. Cursing to herself, Pansy stomped back inside and sat on one of the nearby chairs, determined to wait for Draco and get some answers from him.

As the minutes ticked off, Pansy mulled over the mystery of Draco's strange behavior. Draco had never hidden anything from them—they all had parents connected with the Dark Lord, now, so they knew everything—but now it seems quite clear that he _was_ hiding something. But what?

Pansy felt—more then knew—that the answer was just there, tickling the back of her mind, but she could not put a finger to it. Pansy wanted to growl in frustration. All those times Draco had wanted to wander by himself, and she did not even manage to let him make her stay! The memory of bumping into Harry Potter as she went about trying to find Draco flashed in her mind, and she felt more irritated still, to find herself being helped by the Gryffindor Seeker she hated almost as much as Draco did.

"_What is it with you Slytherins and being helped by other people? It is against your moral code or something, to say 'thank you' and act civil?"_

Pansy frowned. Now why would Potter say something like that? Almost as if he had done it before, helping a Slytherin.

A switch flicked inside her mind, and her eyes almost popped off her face. The room suddenly seemed to spin, and Pansy was having difficulty trying to regain her balance. She gripped the arm of the chair firmly in one hand, trying to digest what she had just realized. And just as quickly tried to deny it.

It was just impossible. Draco would never, not in a million years, consider Potter in _that_ manner. He would laugh at the idea of befriending Potter, even!

But a small voice whispered inside Pansy's head, and it grew steadily louder until it filled her. What about Draco's behavior? All this solitude and sneaking about? Why would he keep something secret from you unless it's something he knew he could never tell you? Like Harry Potter?

A hot surge of anger made Pansy want to kill Harry Potter with her bare hands, but she managed to keep herself still and sitting on the couch. She was being irrational; Draco would never do anything so foolish. Or so _disgusting_. But if it was true? She had to see for herself. She had to confront Draco.

The scene that had unfolded before her as the wall slid open shocked her so much she had almost forgotten how to breathe. Draco was standing a few paces away with Harry Potter, and they were _kissing_. No, snogging; from the way their bodies were pressed so close together and the sounds they were both making, they had more on their minds than just kissing. And they were clearly enjoying it.

When she heard Draco whimper against Potter—the sound actually made her want to gag—her body moved. She hid herself from their view and waited.

A few seconds passed before Draco and Potter broke away. They talked for a while before Potter put on an Invisibility Cloak and disappeared, leaving Draco alone. After a while Pansy decided it was safe to come out, and her eyes immediately fell on Draco, who was staring wistfully at nothing, a half-smile on his face. For a moment Pansy was shocked to find Draco with such a soft expression on his face, but she remembered what Draco had been doing only seconds ago, and hot anger cleared her thoughts.

"Mooning over Potter, Draco?"

Pansy was satisfied with the shocked expression on Draco's face as he realized Pansy was there. And from the expression of anger and disgust on Pansy's, Draco knew she had seen everything.

"Pansy? I thought you…"

"Did you?" Pansy cut him off, her voice deceptively calm. She made herself smile at Draco. "How about you, Draco? Why are you still out? And with Potter, no less." Her smile deepened, and she knew Draco had understood the silent, implied accusation.

As she expected, Draco stiffened with indignation. He gave her his coldest, haughtiest stare. "It's none of your business, Pansy." He strode inside the common room with his back straight, not even looking back.

Pansy only smirked. She knew Draco would act like this. But not for long. _I will not hand you over to Potter, Draco! I will not!_ "Oh but it is, Draco. Specially since I know your father would be elated with the news I can tell him."

That stopped Draco in his tracks. Pansy grinned victoriously behind him and lounged in a chair. "Surprised, Draco? I would think you had already told your parents about you screwing Potter in school." She did not know if that was true, exactly, but she had a hunch. And from Draco's frozen stance, she knew she was right. But it did not bring her satisfaction; only rage. "I don't think you'd mind, would you, if I told them?"

Draco whirled around, his face pale, but his eyes bore down hard on Pansy. His face showed nothing, but Pansy knew where to look; his eyes were tight with controlled fear, and his hands were shaking fists. "You will do no such thing, Pansy."

"Why not?" Pansy challenged, standing, her own eyes flaming with anger. "Afraid that everyone in the school would know you and Potter are gay and fucking each other senseless? That you betrayed your own family and decided to side with Potter and his friends? Merlin, you are so disgusting, Draco." She spat the last out with as much hate as she could muster. "Didn't you even think that maybe Potter is only using you?"

The last sentence seemed to have stirred Draco from his frozen state. He shook his head vehemently. "Harry would never do that to me!" he snapped, iron eyes blazing. He did not even seem to realize that he called Potter by his first name.

Pansy laughed mirthlessly. "I see Potter has done a good job screwing your brains out, Draco. You're not even thinking properly anymore! Potter's as good as dead once the Dark Lord decides to get a hold of him. And what about you? Branded a traitor among the Death Eaters, and suffer a fate even worse than dying, I'll wager. You'd be disowned by your parents, alone, with no friends and certainly no Po—"

_Slap._

The slap stung Pansy's cheek, but it was the realization that Draco had actually raised his hand against her that silenced her, eyes staring wordlessly at him. Draco's cheeks were flushed with anger, his own eyes wide at her, seemingly surprised at what he had done. He backed down a step, looking dazed.

Pansy smiled bitterly at him. _You are MINE, Draco. And Potter WILL die. I'll show you the truth: Potter can never have you._ "Has Potter even told you he loves you, Draco?"

The question made Draco flinch, and Pansy smirked. "He hasn't has he?"

"Shut up." Draco hissed between his teeth, glaring fiercely at her.

"Don't you think the reason he hasn't is because he doesn't love you?" Pansy laughed again. "You will regret this, Draco." She started to walk away, down the path to the girls' dormitories, and stopped once she was a pace behind Draco.

"I suggest you bid your farewell to Potter, Draco. He won't be seeing you again after I'm through with the both of you." And she left him to ponder on her words, smiling to herself. She was looking forward to tomorrow. Draco Malfoy _will_ be hers.

o 0 o

Harry bit his lip as he frowned at the small piece of parchment in his fingers, the edges already worn from the many times he had run his fingers through it. It had only five words, written in emerald ink, but he had no doubt as to who sent it.

_Pansy saw us last night._

Uneasiness rolled off of him, staring hard at the piece of paper as if willing it to produce more words. He cast a glance upwards, across the Great Hall to the Slytherin table. Draco was not there, nor Pansy Parkinson. He frowned even harder.

Hermione paused in the act of folding her copy of the _Daily Prophet._ "Harry? Is there something wrong?"

Harry stirred, almost jumping from his seat. "Ah, nothing's wrong." And the frown returned on his face, glancing in the direction of the Slytherin table again. Hermione noted all of it, specially the lie on his voice.

She remembered the small talk she and Ginny had just before term started. The youngest of the Weasleys had a slight worried frown as she came up to Hermione inside the girls' dormitories. Ginny told her about seeing Harry on the train, looking as if something was troubling him. Something personal, although Ginny had absolutely no idea what it could be. She had even told her that she asked Harry if it was because of Cho Chang, but Harry had not only appeared surprised, but confused.

Hermione tilted her head as she studied Harry. If Harry did not want to talk about it, then it only meant one of two things: either it was dangerous, and linked with Voldemort, or it was something he knew would upset Ron and her. She glanced at Ron, dumping stew into his mouth with the spoon as if it were a shovel. Or maybe it would upset her, and make Ron rage into hysterics.

Making her voice as light as possible so as not to hint at anything, she said, "Well, since we're both finished with lunch, why don't we go on to the library? We can study for Charms there while we wait for Ron to fill the black hole he calls his stomach." They had free period after lunch before they resumed classes, and they usually spent it in the library, the common room, or—during Fridays—visiting Hagrid.

Ron only waved them off with his hands, ignoring Hermione's sniffed disapproval, as Harry agreed wordlessly, grabbing his bag and books as Hermione trotted after him. They passed few students in the corridors; lunch had only begun half an hour past, after all. Most of the students would still be in the Great Hall.

While passing through a hallway in the second floor hung with portraits of nuns and bearded men who looked placidly at them as they walked, Hermione cleared her throat. "You can tell me about that problem now, since Ron isn't here."

Harry missed a step and looked at her with his mouth hanging open. "How did—Who told you?"

Hermione kept herself from rolling her eyes. "I've been your friend for over six years, Harry. I could read you as easily as a book." _Well, maybe not as easy as that. Ron I can read easier than you, but at least I know you better than most._ At the hard stare Harry gave her she relented. "Fine. Ginny said something about seeing you looked troubled, but that was it. I had a guess about what it was about, but I had to make sure. At least, I'm sure it's something personal."

Harry grunted. "I suppose she told you everything?"

_There's more?_ "No, just that." Hermione kept her voice carefully level. She glanced up at Harry, who now towered a head above her. "Was there something else?"

Harry looked about to say something, then shook his head. For a few moments he walked frowning at the floor, then sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Hermione knew this was something Harry did whenever he was frustrated, or getting to it. Harry stopped and leaned against the wall, near an open window directly above a thick clump of bushes. "I need…advice," he said in a voice that seemed wary, but at the same time helpless.

Hermione had grown used to having Harry and Ron seek her help, but this was the first time Harry had asked her advice. She felt flattered and honored. Giving him an encouraging smile, she asked, "What about?"

"I don't know."

They were only up on the second floor. Hermione did not think Harry would be killed if she pushed him out the window. "How am I going to help you if you don't know what you're asking me advice for?" she demanded in a thin voice.

Harry flinched at her voice, and looked quite apologetic. "It's complicated," he began, but Hermione cut him off.

"Of course it will be complicated," she snapped. "It's a personal problem isn't it? Dealing with relationships is never a simple thing." She saw the way Harry shifted at the word 'relationship'. She raised an eyebrow. "Who is it?"

She could see the uneasiness in Harry, now. He directed his gaze at anything but her, and he licked his lips nervously. _Harry has never acted like this when talking about Cho…_ Understanding dawned on her, but she kept her face still. "It's a boy, isn't it?" she asked softly.

Harry froze, staring at her as if she had used a Stunning Spell on him. He opened his mouth once, twice, but no sound came up. Finally he sighed and lowered his head, his shoulders shaking. Hermione realized he was laughing.

"You _are_ the smartest girl I know, probably the smartest person in Hogwarts besides Dumbledore," Harry laughed. "Smarter than we give you credit for."

Hermione shrugged off the compliment. "I read a lot of books."

Harry looked disbelieving at her. "And you knew about…because you read it in a book?"

Hermione paused. "Well, no. Not really."

Harry stopped laughing and looked seriously at her. "You don't…hate me, do you?"

It was Hermione's turn to look shocked. "Why in Merlin's name would I hate you?"

Harry bit his lip and frowned. "Because I'm…I…"

Hermione sighed and wrapped her arms around Harry in a comforting gesture. "Oh, Harry. I'm not going to hate you because you like guys. You're still Harry, aren't you?" She pulled back and grinned. "You just don't swing the same way as other guys do."

Harry arched an eyebrow. "Swing the same way? Where'd you read that?"

Hermione giggled. "Something I saw on television." She patted Harry's cheek. "I won't stop being your friend, Harry. You know that."

Harry smiled gratefully at her, and even though he did not hug her back, or exclaimed his relief, Hermione knew the smile was enough. "So," she said briskly, sitting on the window sill. "Who is it?"

The uneasiness returned in Harry's face, although not as intense as before. "As to that…well…"

Hermione smiled. "Have you told him yet?"

Harry shook his head and sighed.

Hermione nodded. Well, it _is_ difficult telling someone how you feel. "Do you think he feels the same way about you?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't think so," he answered sadly.

_So that's why he's so down._ "Well, have you tried talking to him?"

The blush that rose in Harry's cheeks made Hermione's eyebrows go up. "Harry…you have, haven't you?"

"Well…erm, we didn't talk. Somehow we keep…skipping…over that part."

Hermione thought her eyes would pop at what Harry was trying to say. "How…how far have you both gone?" she asked faintly.

Harry glanced up at her before quickly diverting his eyes to the floor, the blush in his cheeks reaching to the tips of his ears, his feet shifting, his fingers fumbling at the hem of his sleeves. Somehow it occurred to Hermione just how cute Harry looked at the moment, but her attention was all on what Harry was not telling her. Or what he had just shown her, given his reactions.

"Oh…my…" was all she could say.

"It was only once!" Harry hastily defended himself, face beet red.

Something clicked inside Hermione's head. Harry's reluctance. The way he kept glancing at the Slytherin Table. "Draco Malfoy," she breathed through her mouth, and Harry jumped up as if scalded by hot water, looking both sides of the hallway hastily. When nobody was around, he glared at Hermione, opening his mouth to speak, but Hermione beat him to it.

"It _is_ Malfoy, isn't it?" she kept her eyes locked on Harry, who merely nodded. "Is that why you wouldn't tell me? Or Ron?" He nodded again. Hermione sighed. "Well, this complicates matters."

"I know," Harry said in a resigned voice. "And now Parkinson knows."

"What? How?"

"I don't know. Malfoy sent me a note this morning." He let out a worried sigh. "If Parkinson spreads the word about me and Malfoy…" he shuddered, not really wanting to think about it.

Hermione frowned. "Who else knows?"

"None so far, except you."

"Have you talked with Malfoy about it?"

Harry shook his head. "I was with him last night, but I haven't had the chance to talk to him today. What?"

Hermione had been frowning at him. "Last night? You were out sneaking last night?" there was a tone of disapproval in her voice.

"Well, yeah." Harry did not even look remotely abashed. Hermione comforted herself with the knowledge that at least they did not get caught. "Don't look at me like that, Hermione. It was the first time I ever went anywhere with Malfoy alone and…" his voice trailed off, cheeks aflame and eyes widening as if he had said too much.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. She felt a headache coming on. "I suppose that's when…it…happened?" Harry's eyes were stuck to the floor, but he nodded. Hermione frowned. "You're telling me that you both went off and—and did something like that—and you haven't told him how you feel?" Her eyebrows and her tone rose with each word, disbelief stark in her face.

Harry scuffed his shoes on the floor, still avoiding her gaze. "We got drunk," he said in a lame voice, obviously meant to be an excuse. "And things sort of…got out of hand."

Hermione made a frustrated noise against her throat. "Harry! Students aren't allowed to be drinking inside the school! You know that." Even if she wanted to, Hermione could not keep the scolding tone out of her voice.

"We were just drinking!" Harry protested. "And then all of a sudden we were licking the salt from each other's—"

"I don't want to hear it," Hermione quickly cut him off, feeling her own cheeks starting to burn. _Licking salt from each other's what? Good god, I could have lived without knowing!_ Images of Harry and Draco together quickly filled her mind, and she shut those out immediately. She schooled her emotions with an effort, and fixed Harry with a stern glare. "I suppose you want me to help you fix everything out?"

Harry looked up then with a pleading look. For a second Hermione thought of turning Harry down, as a punishment for what he had done—_drinking and snogging and…and _that! _And with Malfoy!_—but she quickly stamped the idea down. Harry was one of her closest, truest friends. Draco Malfoy was far from being her friend—_more like the bane of my existence, for all he calls me a Mudblood—_but Harry needed her help. _But Malfoy—!_

With a resigned sigh she got off the sill and dusted her robes. "The first thing you need to do," she began, "is tell Malfoy the truth."

Harry's grateful expression had turned into a look of pale horror. "What?"

"You heard me," Hermione crossed her arms and gave Harry a look that brooked no nonsense. "For all you know, he's also wondering about what _you_ feel about him. It would be better if you cleared things up between the two of you."

"But what if…if…" Harry seemed to be fighting against the words he wanted to say.

Hermione gave him a soft smile. "Sometimes you have to take a risk, Harry. Specially when it's for something you value above anything else."

Harry let out a dry, scornful laugh. "Easy for you to say. We trust each other as far as we can throw a troll, and that means not at all."

Hermione was thoughtful. "And yet you had no trouble at all last night. If I had to guess, I'd say you didn't even fight." She snorted, and the words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. "Is that all guys could agree on except Quidditch? Sex?"

Harry's cheeks flushed crimson. His green eyes flashed dangerously, but he kept his mouth shut, anger evident in the strain with which he kept himself still. Hermione immediately regretted what she said. She sighed; it was unusual for anything to get under her skin so quickly—except when it came to her studies, of course—and it surprised her just how much the thought of Harry and Draco being together had upset her inner balance. But it wasn't jealousy at all.

Hermione fought to keep her face calm. In truth, thinking about Harry and Draco made her want to giggle. A tinge of pink rose in her cheeks. Now why would she think it _adorable_ if Harry and Malfoy got together? But the more she considered it the more her cheeks flushed, and it was getting more difficult to hold back her giggle.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Harry looked worriedly at her, frowning.

Hermione shook her head, a smile quirking its way to her lips. Quickly, she answered, "Oh, nothing! Nothing's wrong. I was just thinking about something." She laughed it off, hoping Harry would not notice, and she cleared her throat. "Anyway, back to the matter at hand. You have to tell Malfoy, Harry."

For a moment Harry continued frowning at her. And then he sighed. "There's no other way around this, is there?"

Hermione gave him a sympathetic look and a smile. "Unless you can undo what you've already done, which I highly doubt you could. Don't worry; I'm sure it'll turn out just fine."

Harry looked morosely at her. "How do you know?"

Hermione gave him a sly smile. "If you both enjoyed last night, I don't think there's a reason for the both of you to stop, right?" She laughed aloud at the flush on Harry's face and his incoherent splutters.

At last Harry seemed to gain control of himself, and he scowled at Hermione. "This is serious, 'Mione. How am I supposed to…you know, uh, confess?"

Hermione was sorely tempted to say something that would put Harry in another fit of splutters and mad blushing, but the look he gave her made her change her mind. Instead she looked thoughtful, tapping a finger to her chin. "Well, as far as I know, the best thing you can do is go to him and say it outright. In private, of course." She tilted her head at Harry. "Just one question, Harry. How long has this been going on?"

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped, his lips partly open. How long had he considered Draco as something more than just a bitter rival? He had already asked the same question to himself before, and found no answer—which, during that time, did not really seem a big deal. Now it was, though.

"I'm not really sure how it all started," Harry began, slowly forming the words in his mind, trying to compose his thoughts and hoping he would make sense. Hermione just stood there and waited for him to continue. "To be honest, I didn't even consider that I might be attracted to…anyway, things with Draco just sort of…happened." Harry looked up at Hermione, hoping she understood, and she nodded. Harry was encouraged to continue.

"When people started reading about the prophecy in the _Prophet_, everyone started treating me like some sort of demigod hero." Harry's mouth twisted with the remembrance. "From the lying, attention-grabbing Harry to the great, prophesied Harry. But every time I confronted Draco, every time we fought, it felt like he was only seeing me—Harry Potter, another Hogwarts student, one he hated to his guts." Harry managed a wry smile. "From the start Draco had hated me because I was me, and it did not change. I guess that was how I started to think of Draco as…" his voice faltered, and he sighed. "When I heard Uncle Vernon say that people find it hard to face the truth, I didn't know what he was talking about. I think I understand now."

Hermione patted his arm in a comforting gesture and gave Harry a warm smile. "Don't worry, no matter what happens, Ron and I will always be right here." She paused for a moment. "By the way, who started it?"

Harry had no difficulty at all understanding what Hermione meant. With a slight flush of his cheeks, he told her what happened that fateful day in Diagon Alley, when he caught Draco watching him eat ice cream. After his story, Hermione looked accusingly at Harry.

"I knew it! I knew that weird way you have of eating ice cream would get you in trouble!" She looked exasperated and resigned all at the same time, and seemed torn over being angry at Harry or laughing.

Harry gave her a weak grin. "You can't really call it trouble, though. Not in that sense."

"No, I guess not," Hermione sighed. She stopped and frowned, as if remembering something all of a sudden. "Wait a minute…you said it started at Diagon Alley…and…" Her eyes went round, and she stared accusingly at Harry again. "Something happened in the train with Malfoy."

It wasn't even a question. Harry flushed even darker. "Twice," he confessed.

Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head. "I had a feeling you were hiding something when we found you in a locked compartment," she muttered almost to herself.

"Sorry."

Hermione snorted. "It's over and done with. It's no use getting angry with you just because you were snogging Malfoy on the train." She wrinkled her nose. "I just hope nobody saw or heard you two doing it."

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you guys!"

Ron came panting towards them, clutching a stitch to his side. "I thought you were heading to the library?"

"We were," Harry said quickly, giving Hermione a look. "We just decided to take a bit of a walk for a moment."

"Yes, that's right," Hermione nodded, cottoning on. "A-anyway, why were you looking for us?"

Ron took in huge gulps of air. "You guys…wouldn't believe what happened down at the Great Hall." His eyes were round as saucers now, his eyes bright. "Malfoy's mum is here! And you know what? Shecame right up to that slimy git Malfoy and hauled him off to the Headmaster's office. Harry? Harry, did you hear me?"

Harry did not realize he had been staring at nothing until Ron turned his full attention to him. Hermione looked half-shocked, half-petrified in horror at what it could mean. Only Ron looked nonplussed. Harry knew he must have looked like he had been punched in the gut. Hell, he felt like he had been punched in the gut and his insides frozen to ice. He felt dizzy, too.

"I'm fine," Harry lied. Hermione grabbed his arm, frowning at him, but Harry only shook his head at her and gave them both a reassuring smile. "I'm fine. I guess I'm just feeling a bit out of it this morning."

Ron seemed content with Harry's explanation, because he said, "Anyway, rumors are already spreading that the Malfoys are planning to get their son out of Hogwarts."

"What?!" Harry exclaimed before he could stop himself.

Ron mistook Harry's yelp as one of jubilation. "Yeah, and good riddance if it's all true," he added in a nasty smirk.

Hermione sniffed at him. "And where did you hear such a silly rumor?"

Ron looked offended, but he recovered with a victorious and smug look. "I overheard Pansy Parkinson talking with those trolls, Crabbe and Goyle. The idiots looked upset—heh, I don't think they'll survive a day in Hogwarts without Malfoy telling them how to breathe—but Pansy seemed happy. I think she's going with Malfoy." He snorted to show what he thought of that.

For a long time Harry's mind was blank. _Pansy saw us last night._ Malfoy's hastily-scribbled note was still tucked inside his pocket. Somehow, Pansy Parkinson was behind all of this, he knew it. But what was he going to do about it? His heart pounded loudly against his chest. What was he going to do?

"Harry, where are you going?" Hermione watched worriedly as Harry started walking back to the Great Hall. "Harry?"

"What's up mate?" Ron asked, too, and now he looked almost as worried as Hermione. He looked from Harry to Hermione, frowning. "What's going on?"

Harry stopped and looked back. He smiled at them, although inside he wanted to scream. "I'm going to tell Draco the truth."

"Draco? You mean Malfoy?" Ron looked confused.

Harry looked at Hermione. "You'd better explain things to him, Hermione."

Hermione nodded, giving him one of her best encouraging smiles. "Yeah, we'll catch up to you later."

Leaving a very confused Ron and a worried Hermione behind, Harry turned around and took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he knew would happen, and preparing for the worst.

o 0 o

_End of part 1._

_Yes, I know I placed my notes up front already, but it seems apologies are in order for the unannounced hiatus I have put on the story. Things have been rather hectic in real life, and trust me, running a school paper is NOT easy. Part 2 has been posted together with the first one, so you can enjoy the full last chapter without hindrance._


	7. Cowardice to Courage part 2

Chapter 5: **Cowardice to Courage**, in which two people realize that courage does not mean the absence of fear, but rather, the acceptance of it, and believing that it can be conquered. (part 2 of 2)

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"I will be in the faculty office, should you need me, Narcissa." Professor Dumbledore gave her a nod of the head and spread his magenta robes scattered with silver moons. "Are you quite certain you don't need my assistance in this matter?"

"No, Headmaster. I only need to talk privately with my son and Miss Parkinson for a while. A personal matter, you might say." Narcissa Malfoy nodded her head graciously and smiled. "I shall tell my son to call you when we are finished, and after that I am afraid I must go back to the estate and attend to other things."

"I understand." Dumbledore gave Draco a fleeting, searching look—and was that a wink?—and swept out of his own office.

Draco turned his eyes slowly from the quickly closing double doors to his mother. Narcissa's face was inscrutable as she walked around the room, studying the numerous instruments and devices on tables and shelves around the office, seemingly interested in the small noises and puffs of smoke they emitted, but Draco was not fooled. His mother was only bidding her time, and perhaps waiting for something. Or someone. Draco fervently wished she was not waiting for his father.

The only other person in the room was Pansy Parkinson, sitting on one of the high-backed chairs before the headmaster's table, a smirk grazing her face every so often. When Narcissa was looking though, she carefully kept her face smooth, her eyes cast to the floor. Draco wanted to wring her neck dry, but he forced himself to stay still on his own chair that was opposite Pansy's.

Keeping still and calm took every ounce of self-control Draco had, and he silently wondered why he was not sweating buckets right then. Outwardly he looked relaxed and emotionless, but inside he was a wreck. His heart beat loudly against his chest. His skin felt cold. He knew he was already feeling the beginnings of panic. His hands would have been shaking had he not kept them in closed fists on his lap, partly hidden by his robes.

Forcing himself to take slow breaths, Draco tried to think. It was near impossible, with Pansy just a pace away from him and shooting silent, satisfied grins, or his mother wordlessly pretending to study Dumbledore's numerous possessions, but he managed. The first thing he decided he was going to do if he ever got out of this alive, was to curse Pansy Parkinson to within an inch of her life, and maybe Harry, too! Damn the idiot for landing him in this trouble!

Even as he thought of it, Draco knew he would not have the heart to go and do it. At least, not the last part. But Pansy was an entirely different matter altogether; Draco was pretty sure his conscience wouldn't be the least bit bothered if he left Pansy with tentacles sprouting from her scalp instead of hair. His eyes caught his mother slowly approaching the headmaster's table, and he stiffened. His mouth felt dry all of a sudden, and the room had suddenly gone cold.

Draco knew fear, but he had never before felt such an all-consuming terror for his life before. The more his mother closed the gap between her self and the table, the more Draco felt cold anger emanate from her. Her eyes, which were normally warm and bright, were hard now, and merciless. She was wearing deep green robes lined with silver embroidery, with the insignia of the Malfoy house at the back, and her hair swept up elegantly on her head. Every inch of her exuded the power and authority her name and reputation warranted, and it all seemed to press in on Draco as she got closer.

Draco glanced at Pansy for a moment and saw her sink further into her chair, trying to back away without her noticing, and Draco felt mild satisfaction at seeing Pansy so easily cowed by his mother, although it was quickly stamped out when he realized he was being cowed, too. This thought made anger bubble inside him, and it pricked at his fear somewhat. He managed to sit straight and look at his mother in the eye.

_I have to do this. I must!_

"Mother," he began, and was surprised to find that his voice did not tremble. Taking heart, he continued. "Mother, what brought you here to Hogwarts? I hope nothing happened at home."

Narcissa stopped a foot away from Draco and looked down on him, her face still emotionless. "No, nothing is wrong." She took out something from her robes. "Although I received quite an interesting letter this morning."

Draco did not even need to look at the letter to know it had come from Pansy. He kept his face smooth. "And what does the letter say, Mother?"

Narcissa studied her son for a few moments, tilting her head slightly. "Nothing much of importance," she said after a while, and Draco thought he saw Pansy stiffen in her seat. "I assume you know it was Miss Parkinson who sent me the letter?"

Draco nodded his head. He glanced at Pansy, who smirked. "Mother, what did Pansy tell you that you had to go all the way here to talk to me personally?"

"That you are sexually involved with Harry Potter." Her eyes held no trace of warmth as she bore down on Draco. "Is this true, Draco? This…accusation?"

Pansy shot up out of her chair. "It's all true, Aunt Narcissa. All of it! I saw it with my own eyes. He was with Potter last night!" She pointed a finger at Draco, her eyes bright with anger and sweet revenge.

Narcissa merely turned her head slightly in Pansy's direction and lifted an eyebrow. "I was talking to Draco, Pansy."

Pansy flushed and muttered an apology before taking her seat, looking thoroughly abashed. She squirmed under Narcissa's unwavering gaze for a few more moments before Narcissa directed that gaze back to Draco. "Now. Is it true?"

Draco had to force himself to snort and roll his eyes at Pansy. "You can't be saying that you believe what Pansy has told you, Mother."

Draco's words seemed to have no effect on his mother. Narcissa only stared at him and waited. Draco had to clear his throat and turn his gaze somewhere else. Under his mother's stare, Draco felt as if he had been stripped naked and weighed and measured to the ounce. Knowing his mother, Draco knew he could not lie to her.

_But telling her the truth would lead to the inevitable question, one that I had been avoiding all along. What should I do?_

A knock on the door made all three heads snap up and turn.

Both Draco and Pansy stared wildly, clearly surprised at the intrusion, but Narcissa only frowned. For a moment Draco thought he saw her smile, but he blinked and it was gone. Draco thought it was only his imagination, or else a trick of the light. He wasn't really thinking straight at the moment, after all.

"Come in," Narcissa said in a clear, cool voice. The door opened slowly, and Harry Potter came walking in.

The moment Draco recognized Harry he began to fervently pray the ground would suddenly open up and swallow him whole. What was the bloody idiot doing here? How did he know? What was he planning to do?!? Draco wanted Harry to go away, but the look in Harry's eyes made it clear he was determined to stay. For a second their eyes met, and Draco saw Harry's gaze soften. When Harry blinked and looked up at Draco's mother, it was gone.

"And what are you doing here, Mister Potter?"

"Mrs. Malfoy." Harry inclined his head in the barest of nods, his face smooth, although Draco saw how Harry's hands shook by his sides. "I heard what you were asking Draco."

"Oh?" Narcissa raised an eyebrow at him. She fondled the letter in her hands idly. "And what can you say about it?"

"It's all true."

Draco closed his eyes painfully as Pansy made a triumphant 'hah!' beside him. _No! Harry, you idiot! Shut up and get out of here! You're only making things worse!_

Narcissa breathed deeply through her nose, her stare turning into a glare sharp as a dagger. "You admit to this…this atrocity?"

Her withering glare should have been sufficient warning for Harry to turn tail and flee, but Harry only nodded, once. "Yes."

Draco could not hold back a gasp as Narcissa's full-armed slap sent Harry reeling backwards a few steps, although he was able to keep standing. A deep, angry red welt spread across Harry's left cheek, and his eyes watered with the sting. But his face did not change, nor did his gaze falter.

Narcissa walked forward calmly, her face still set in stone, but her eyes were ablaze, and she managed to look as if she was staring down at Harry even though he was almost as tall as she was. "You dare to touch my son?"

"Yes," Harry answered, and Narcissa slapped him again. He was struck so hard that his lip was cut, a thin trail of blood drawing down to his chin. Harry staggered trying to regain his balance, but before he could stand straight Narcissa slapped him again. And again. And again.

Each blow was punctuated by the sharp, loud sound of flesh against flesh, and Draco winced each time. Before he knew it he was blinking back tears as he watched his mother bear down on Harry, and Harry was not even resisting her. He took each slap without a word, sometimes with a sharp intake of breath, but he did not say anything. He did not even draw his wand. Pansy, Draco saw, smiled smugly, a gloating expression on her face. When she saw Draco watching her, her smile deepened.

"I told you," she gave him a soft, amused chuckle, and returned to watching Harry receive each of his mother's strike with a relish.

Draco closed his eyes, unable to take anymore of it. Inside, he wanted to yell at his mother to stop, but he knew he could not. _Why not?_ A voice inside him screamed so loudly it seemed to echo in his mind. _If you don't do anything, she might even kill Harry! You know she could do it!_

But this is Hogwarts. Mother would never do anything as dangerous as that here! _So you'll just let her hurt Harry like this? I thought you love him, for heaven's sake!_

The familiar fear of rejection rose up strongly in Draco again, but this time he fought to keep it in control. He opened his eyes, and saw Harry was now sprawled on the floor, supporting his upper body with his elbows as he looked up at Narcissa, who was now advancing on him with her wand in hand.

At that moment Draco did something he had never done before. He made a decision for himself, and he did not care what would happen next.

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Harry shook his head to clear away the ringing sound in his ears from the last hard slap to his right cheek that had sent him lying on the floor of Dumbledore's office. The pain had numbed his entire face, and he knew for a certainty he'd have bruises that would have him wincing for weeks if he did not go to Madame Pomfrey's office after this. If he lived through this. At the rate Narcissa Malfoy was going, Harry just might be the first person to die from a slap. That woman could _hit!_

When Harry decided there was nothing else for it but to confront Draco and his mother, he had expected he would not come out of the experience unmarred. In truth, he had half expected Lucius Malfoy would be here, too, but was relieved to see it really was just Narcissa Malfoy.

But now Harry was having second thoughts as to whether it was better after all if it was Lucius Malfoy. At least if he had used magic against him, Harry would be able to fight back.

He watched as Narcissa slowly drew out her wand and pointed it at Harry. She was breathing heavily now, her face flushed, her eyes tight with barely-controlled anger. Harry closed his eyes, waiting for her to strike.

_I deserve this. I knew this was going to happen, and I did not even have the courage to tell Draco how I feel._

"You will regret this, Harry Potter."

Harry stiffened, but the spell did not come. Instead Harry let out a muffled shout as something heavy slammed against his body, throwing him back on the floor, his head hitting the stone painfully, making spots of light dance across his eyes and sharp pain spread on his skull.

"What the…Draco?" Harry winced as he tried to get up, only to find Draco had wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, his head burrowed on Harry's chest. Harry blinked, and for a moment he did not even register the pain on his head. "Draco? Why…why are you crying?"

Draco slowly lifted his head, hiccupping slightly. "You…idiot," he sniffed, his cheeks and nose quite pink. "Insufferable…prick! I thought…thought you had…more sense than this! What in M-Merlin's name made you get up here and tell my mother all of that?!"

Harry sighed and gave Draco a soft, wan smile. "Because she deserves to know, Draco." He ran fingers through Draco's hair. Harry knew that Narcissa would not allow him to be with Draco after this, but Harry did not care, just as long as he could tell Draco the truth. "And it's true, isn't it?"

Draco bit back a sob and blinked back his tears furiously. Harry could not help think that even when he was crying Draco still looked beautiful to him. "Do you have any idea what would happen if you told my parents? What would happen to _you_?"

"I have some idea."

Draco felt like punching Harry. The stupid git even had the gall to smile! "Why?" he let out, his voice half wail, half whisper. He stared at Harry with a frown. "Why?"

Harry leaned close to him until his lips touched Draco's ear. Draco closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of vanilla and summer again, the intoxicating smell soothing him even now. Harry's breath was warm against Draco's cold skin, and for a moment it melted all his fears away.

"I love you," Harry whispered, and kissed Draco full on the mouth, his tongue tasting him again, and Draco kissed back just as fiercely, just as earnestly, reveling in the sweetness of Harry, not caring that his mother was watching them, or that Pansy was staring at them with her eyes ready to pop out of her skull. Draco kissed Harry for all he was worth, and he knew—without Harry telling him—that Harry now knew how Draco felt about him, too.

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Narcissa kissed her son's cheek lightly, but her smile held more warmth and love than a kiss on the cheek could convey. She gave him a tight embrace, though, just to make sure she got her point across. "Leave you father to me," she said confidently, including Harry into her smile, who was now standing beside Draco. "I can handle him easily enough. But you must give him time to adjust to the…news."

Draco laughed and hugged her back. "If there's anyone who can manage that, it's you, Mother." He squeezed her hand. "Thank you."

Narcissa nodded and fought back tears. If only they were not standing outside the school with the headmaster and the deputy headmistress watching a few paces away, she would have cried with joy. "There is no need to thank me, Draco. Defending you is one of my duties as a mother." She turned to Harry Potter.

The young man had startlingly bright green eyes. He was grinning at her, too. The red marks on his cheeks were gone; healing light wounds were her specialty, after all. She gave him a hug, too. "I apologize for my actions earlier, Harry. I had to make sure you knew what you were facing, loving my son. I hope you understand."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I reckon that was the reason why you did it. That, or you really were trying to kill me."

Draco scowled at him and elbowed him hard on the ribs, making Harry wince. "Behave yourself! That's my _mother_ you're talking to!" Draco hissed under his breath, although Narcissa heard it perfectly well.

Narcissa laughed. She was beginning to like Harry Potter more and more. Too bad she had no time to talk with him more. Perhaps later. Or why not during Christmas? "It was nice meeting you, Harry. Maybe we can meet again soon, when we both have the time."

Harry nodded. "I'll be looking forward to it, Mrs. Malfoy."

Narcissa nodded, too, pleased. "And do not trouble yourself with Pansy Parkinson; I have talked with her. She will not bother you again, that I can promise." Her carriage was pulling up in front of the Entrance Hall's doorway. "I have to go."

Both Harry and Draco escorted her to the carriage and watched as she slowly trudged out of Hogwarts, waving at her. Narcissa watched as their figures slowly dwindled, a smile on her face. When Draco and Harry both confronted her with the truth, she had seen the fear in their eyes, the fear that told her they both knew what they would be facing: rejection, ridicule, maybe even loathing. But they looked determinedly at her, holding each other's hand, not even thinking of letting go.

Narcissa nodded knowingly to herself. Those two would have a hard time of it yet, but she knew they had what would get them through anything, now. They had each other.

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_End of story._

_This story is now COMPLETE, thank the gods. Eventually I will edit the chapters, polish it here and there, but the story would remain basically the same. I hope, dear readers, that you have enjoyed this fic, and would continue to support and read stories I will make in the future. Please do not forget to write a review after reading this; all your comments and criticisms will help to make me a better writer. To all those who have stuck with this story to the end: thank you for your reviews and your support! Again, I dedicate this story to all slash readers and writers, specially to HPDM supporters. May all our pens stay sharp, our imaginations wild, and Harry and Draco continue to give us warm and fuzzy feelings through our stories._

_Next story: __**(Cat)astrophe!**__, another HPDM fic. Definitely Rated M. (evil cackle)_

_Summary: (Post DH) As the Wizarding world slowly adjusts to life without the fear of a Dark Wizard in their midst, Harry Potter slowly comes to terms with what he has lost, what he has gained, and…being turned into a cat?_


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